


Burned

by lizscham



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Ancient History, Angst, Ballet, Best Friends, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, College, Dancing, Dark Magic, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Gen, Goddesses, Historical, Historical Fantasy, History, Hook-Up, Humor, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Library of Alexandria, M/M, Memories, Memory Magic, Mythology - Freeform, One Night Stands, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prophetic Dreams, Psychological Horror, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Reincarnation, Sisters, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Soulmates, South American Mythology, Teacher-Student Relationship, Torture, Training, Underage Drinking, University, dance, girls supporting girls, myths, squad goals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-19 02:50:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 73
Words: 81,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7341583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizscham/pseuds/lizscham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamie Anderson is proud to say she’s just like other girls: her makeup is an art form, her weekends are reserved for wild parties, and she has the drop-dead gorgeous TA of her history class in her scope.</p><p>And she’s managed to score a birthday dinner with him. Well, a study session on her birthday. It counts.</p><p>But the night of her birthday, things start to get strange. Suddenly she has memories that aren’t her own from a past that shouldn’t be possible. People who shouldn’t exist insist she has a destiny that no sane person would ever even imagine. The man who was supposed to be her one-night-stand insists they are meant to be far more.</p><p>Above all, something is coming, they tell her. Something sinister, dangerous, that will be seeking her out.</p><p>Jamie Anderson is proud to say she’s just like other girls. And she would like to keep it that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday Morning

“Uuuungh.”

There was no more appropriate response to waking up cold on a Monday morning.

Jamie Anderson rolled over in her twin-sized bed with another groan and pulled her flimsy sheets a little tighter, and quite frankly wasn’t surprised when it didn’t help. The clock on her bedside table said 7:53; she grabbed her phone from the windowsill and double checked, just like always, as if the clocks could be conspiring against her and her sleep schedule. Instead of trying and failing for another half hour of sleep, she sighed, stared at the ceiling as if it would give her the motivation she needed to move, before finally rolling out of bed and right into a thick hoodie.

She stretched her toes and cracked them loudly on the cold wood floor, shuffling over to her drawers and pulling on a heavy pair of socks. With a groan she leaned backwards, stretching until her stiff back and neck gave satisfying cracks; her limbs felt like jelly, but it was just what she was going for.

A moment of standing, staring at the poster above her dresser gave her the strength to shuffle across her room, open the door, and make her way into the kitchen. The living room was even colder than her room, since the damn landlord wouldn’t even think of turning on the heat until November, but it was turning out to be a cool fall in Boston, chilled enough with the cold air off the harbor and only made worse by the wind that whipped around the buildings and crept through gaps in their windows and doors. Jamie grabbed a blanket from an armchair as she passed, wrapping it around herself like a cape.

The coffee maker sat on the only clean counter in the kitchen; neither she nor either of her roommates had ever figured out how to program the automatic brewing and alarm, so she had to set up the machine and wait, elbows on the counter and chin in her hands, for another few minutes until it started making coughing noises and finished filling her cup. She dropped two sugar cubes in her mug from a bowl beside the coffee maker, took a large bottle of flavored creamer from the refrigerator door, filled the mug until it was nearly too sweet to drink, and finally took a long, satisfying sip and let out a sigh.

Back against the wall, she watched the city, already waking up, from the window, five floors up and mostly facing the alley save for a little sliver of the main street. There were some people on the street, most with book bags— students on their way to early classes— mixed with a handful of business people, rushing along with food in their hands on their way to work. She couldn’t help but smile at the pleasant thought that she was not out there with them.

She was starting her second cup of coffee when another door in the apartment clicked open and released an unhappy groan into the apartment. Alison’s footsteps thudded on the hardwood slowly as she made her way to the kitchen, always reluctant to start another morning.

Jamie grinned as Alison shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing tired eyes behind thin wire-frame glasses. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail that had slowly become more and more undone overnight in her sleep. She glared as she looked over her best friend’s pajamas: a tattered t-shirt and _her_ dance shorts.

“You thief! Aren’t you freezing?”

“Shhhhhh.” Alison held up a hand and leaned on the counter. “No accusing me of felonies until two cups of coffee. And I’m not freezing, because this incredible hangover makes it hard to feel much other than my head.”

“Have some coffee.”

Alison did just that, not even bothering with the sugar or frills that Jamie did, and groaned again. “Pity me and make me breakfast.”

Jamie snorted into her coffee. “You’re the one who went out on a Sunday night, make your own damn eggs.”

“Why don’t you love me?”

“Because you make bad choices.”

She grunted in agreement and dug through a cupboard until she found a box of cereal and shoved a handful into her mouth. “Bad choices make good memories.”

“So you actually remember all of last night?”

“About fifty percent, so I’d call it a success.”

“Want to warn me about anything that might be crawling out of your room, naked and confused?”

“Nope, came home alone.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

Alison hummed a little and rubbed her forehead before eating another handful of cereal. “Not that unfortunate, actually, if you’d seen the slim pickings at the Roadhouse last night. Consider me lucky.”

Jamie chuckled as she fished a box of English muffins from on top of the fridge. “Want one?”

“Oh, god, no. All the butter you put on them is just what I need to puke right now.”

She tried to give a glare, but there was no point when she knew it was true. “I just want you to know that Marco always had coffee ready by the time I woke up, every single morning.”

“Then go live with Marco again.”

“Would that I could. What’s the day look like for you?” she asked over her shoulder, pulling apart the muffin and starting it in the toaster.

“Broadcasting at 12,” Alison grumbled. “Sociology at 1, and straight to Modern History at 2. But I’ve gotta go print stuff at the library, so I’m going in early. And I’ve got a freaking department meeting at 5 that’ll be at least two hours long, so, y’know, just kill me now. They’re not even buying us pizza this time.” She paused for a sip of coffee and a few painkillers. “You?”

“Studios, 11 to 6, same old same.” The toaster popped and, even though they both expected it, startled them. “Fucking hell, one day I’m going to get used to that. Anyway, want me to pick up dinner for you on my way home? I’m thinking Thai. I’ve been craving pineapple rice for three days.”

“Moo goo gai pan, spring rolls, egg drop soup, and sweet sticky rice, please.”

Jamie cocked her head. “I’m pretty sure egg drop soup is Chinese.”

“Don’t care, I want some.”

“Noodle soup it is then. Has anyone ever told you that you eat like a linebacker?”

“Yes. You, constantly. As if you’re one to talk.”

“Hey, I do _not_ eat like a linebacker. I eat like three of them rolled into one.”

As Alison snorted a laugh into her coffee, they could hear the quick race of footsteps across the cold hardwood living room floor, complete with a quiet string of muttered curses, followed by the bathroom door closing and the sound of the shower starting. Both listened carefully, waited… And groaned as they heard Vince start belting some obnoxious song from the radio as loudly as he could.

“I’m going to end up killing him one of these days,” Jamie grumbled, biting into her English muffin.

“Morning people.” The way Alison said it, it was like a curse. “When does hibernation start? ‘Cause I’m doing that.”

She looked confused. “I’m pretty sure that’s only a thing if you’re an animal living in the wild. I know you call your room The Cave, but I still don’t think you count.”

“Screw you.”

“Buy me dinner first.” Smirking, Jamie ducked off into the living room, plopping down on her favorite chair and grabbing her laptop from the coffee table. Her coffee balanced on the ratty, duct taped arm as she typed in her passwords and dug around for the TV remote.

Alison joined her with a bowl of cereal to watch the news, plopping back onto the mismatched couch on the least-destroyed of the three cushions. In silence, they went through their emails and finished up assignments, drinking coffee and slowly nibbling on breakfast. When they finally looked up, it was at the sound of the shower turning off, loud singing finally dying, and the bathroom door swinging open and hitting the wall. Their second roommate walked in with a bright smile, ignoring the glares the girls gave him. He was struggling to get a comb through his thick, tightly curled hair. His shirt was draped over one shoulder, jeans hanging a little loose since he hadn’t yet grabbed a belt. Jamie gave him an annoyed look and flicked a burnt piece of English muffin at his stomach.

“Stop it with the perfect abs,” she grumbled. “It’s not fair.”

“Don’t hate me ‘cause you ain’t me,” he teased in return to her tease. His grin was wide, never one to take offense to her good-nature ribbing, even at the early hours. Although, in those early hours, that was perhaps the one moment of the day it was a little serious. Either way, he had learned to ignore her with a smile.

“And the singing,” Alison added, scowling. “Especially before the third cup of coffee.”

“Did you leave any for me?”

“It’s in there.”

“Getting ready to enjoy another day of playing with nasty, sweaty balls that everyone’s had their hands all over?” Jamie asked over her shoulder as Vince disappeared into the kitchen. It was a point of pride that she made so many jokes about him ‘grabbing balls’ on his basketball scholarship, and had not yet repeated any. Two years into the friendship, it was getting a little close, but she still found a way.

“I’ll tell the guys their favorite vixen says hello,” he chuckled when he returned, stirring his coffee. “They’re expecting you at the party on Friday. Kevin says he already swiped birthday crowns from Burger King for everyone.”

“Does mine have glitter on it?”

“I have a feeling it will now.” Resting his cup on the table, he pulled on his shirt and joined her on the couch. “He’s also stocked up on your favorite schnapps and has one bottle with a gigantic label that just says ‘JAMIE’ on it, and anyone who tries to drink from it gets the ping pong paddle.”

She had a satisfied smile on her face. “I freaking love my birthday.”

“And I made reservations for Saturday,” Alison announced with as much enthusiasm as she could possibly manage through her hangover haze. “We have a table for 6:30.”

“You’re both my favorite.”

“Well, obviously.” Vince ducked back into the kitchen for a bagel and returned, biting off a chunk. “I don’t think there’s gonna be many other girls there, though. Sausage fest all the way.”

“What? Why?! Who am I supposed to grind with and gossip with?!” She threw a random coaster from the table at him.

“Hey! The guys that have girlfriends are bringing them, but that’s all there is!”

Alison rolled her eyes. “Invite your dancer friends then! You’ll have girls to gossip with, I’ll have girls to do shots with, and the boys’ll have girls to hit on who aren’t off limits.”

“Why can’t they just hit on me?”

“Because if we let you do the same thing a hundred times over and expect it to end any better this _one_ time, that would be called ‘insanity’.”

“But it’s—!”

“Your birthday, yeah, too damn bad.” Alison rolled her eyes as Jamie pouted. “Fine, I’ll bring some guys from my classes. Will that be good enough?”

She perked up instantly. “Perfect! Just point me to the hottest single one and watch me work my magic!”

“Just like that?” Vince snorted; she glared at him over the edge of her coffee cup as she finished it off. “What makes you think it’ll work?”

Jamie tossed her hair as she stood, cocked her hip, and rolled her eyes dramatically. “God, Vince!” she scoffed in the ultimate Valley Girl voice. “Because I’m not like other girls! Of course it’ll work!” They all laughed as she started for her room. “Nah, I’ll just look super sexy, add in a bit of bad decision juice and fifteen minutes of dancing and I can totally score. Holler if you need me!”

She closed the door behind her with another little laugh as she started stripping out of her pajamas. Jamie _was_ like other girls, and had never understood why that was supposed to be a bad thing. She liked coffee, especially the fancy sugary ones from Starbucks that could hardly count as coffee. She wore make up nearly daily and liked dressing up and pretty clothes. Some nights she would go out and party and she was not ashamed to flirt and dance and kiss a stranger and take him home for a single night.

There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t stand in front of her closet, generously stocked with all sorts fashionable clothes and an endless array of perfect shoes, dedicated to looking as spectacular as she could. Even when she spent half the day in dance studios, her leotards matched her sweaters, and they were nothing but the most flattering and 'in' styles. And she never, _ever_ would leave the apartment without deeming her makeup immaculate.

Some days she felt like a walking stereotype.

Those were the days she took one look in the mirror, spun gracefully on her toes, and gave herself a beaming smile and said ‘fuck it’ to stereotypes; anyone who thought she wasn't completely excellent, or that she needed to be something else to be taken seriously, was automatically not worth her time. Her confidence and happiness were well worth all the friendly jokes about the size of her ego.

Mondays were especially good days for dressing up; not only was she going through dance classes all day, an exhausting feat in and of itself, but it was _Monday_. Her attitude towards Mondays made her comparable to Garfield, and sometimes the best way to fight that was to wear her favorite leotard— technically meant for performance, navy blue with a crisscross back— and most comfortable tights— despite all the snags and rips and runs they’d amassed over the years. She drew careful lines along her eyes, made her lips dark red, powdered it all so it would last through the heat and sweat that came from six hours of dancing, and finally pulled her hair into a smooth bun on top of her head. It took nearly forty minutes, and when she stepped out of her room, she was greeted by Alison sighing.

“You make it very hard to live with you sometimes,” she grumbled, looking over Jamie’s outfit of the day; she herself wore nothing more complicated than jeans and a hoodie, and was perfectly happy that way, no matter how much she teased Jamie.

She grinned as she picked out a pair of shoes from the closet. “I keep telling you I’ll gladly do your makeup for you, but you don’t sit still long enough. Ever.”

“Yeah, well, makeup makes my face itch. Hold it right there!”

Jamie froze.

“Pants, missy.”

“I’ve got tights on!”

“I am not taking the bus with you looking like you’re half naked! We’ll never hear the end of the assholes calling at you. And grab a sweater; you’ll freeze to death like that.”

“Maybe they should stop being assholes,” she grumbled. Weirdly enough, it was a fairly common argument around their apartment, one that Alison won more often than not. Grudgingly Jamie slipped into a pair of jeans and a heavy sweater before she put on her favorite pair of boots. “Better?”

“Almost. Can I have those shoes?”

“Once again, no."

“Ugh, _fine_ , then I guess you’re all good.” Alison rolled her eyes, reluctantly dragged herself off the couch, and grabbed her bag, shoes, and keys by the back door. “C’mon, if we leave now we’ll have time to stop and get coffee at the library.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I originally posted this months ago (at a really awful time to be undertaking such a thing). I've begun from the beginning again as a means of beta-ing the story. Most of the chapters have been taken down for my own sanity, but the tags remain because eventually I'll be reuploading them. If this actually goes according to plan, I'll have the whole thing up in not too terribly long of a time. So for those beta-ing for me, you're wonderful and I appreciate it more than you know. For those just reading, I mean, I still hope you like it.


	2. Monday Afternoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapter titles mean basically nothing, they're just to remind me where I've left off.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen.”

From their positions at the barres, no heads turned, no rhythms were broken, not a single thing changed in the warm ups of the Advanced Ballet class as Mr. Kennedy paced through their ranks. Their professor was a tall, athletic, imposing man with graying hair and impeccable posture that came from years of ballet performance and teaching. With completely silent steps, he walked amongst them, hardly even sparing them a glance and yet knowing just who needed and adjustment in their arms, the tilt of their chin, the turn of a leg. All the while, there was a light and steady song echoing through the studio from a piano in the corner where Tony effortlessly and endlessly played the same song he had for them every day.

Mr. Kennedy had only the slightest hesitation in his step as he nudged Earnest’s elbow until his arm bent only a little more. “It’s come time to decide the program for the winter concert.”

A lesser trained class would have quickly broken out into quiet tittering, but it was a testament to their skill that the only change in their dance was their high eyebrows, wider eyes, and sudden excited smiles, never even breaking rhythm.

“Of course every class will be expected to perform— I will be directing this group in a piece from _La Bayeder_ , for which you all must audition in the coming days— and there will be a list of soloists posted.” He tapped Pippa's shoulder until she stood a slight bit straighter. “Auditions will be Friday evening. You must have the song you intend to perform as well as at least a minute’s worth of choreography. The best five will be posted outside of the studio by Friday, no later than 8 o’clock, and perform the extended dance come December.”

Jamie dared a quick, excited glance across the room, catching Sadie’s eyes just before Mr. Kennedy flicked her chin; she blushed and snapped her head back into position.

To a beginning class, it may have seemed like an impossible task; less than a week to choose a piece, choreograph it, and make it audition-ready, but this studio was filled with dancers who were _ready_. By the time they were packing up, each person knew exactly what they were doing for Friday afternoon.

“Sorry to be a traitor, guys,” Jordan announced, packing his bag while sitting in a split, “but I’m sticking to Modern. I’m not delusional; I know there’s no way I’m getting a solo by doing ballet.” It was simply a matter of fact, and when his friends nodded and agreed, Jordan was not offended in the slightest. “ _Coldplay_ seems like a pretty good place to start.”

“Anyone up for rocking a pas de deux with me?” Pippa asked as she shrugged on her sweater.

Jess raised her hand, pulling on her pants. “What’ve you got?”

“A bad obsession with Gene Kelly and a couple ideas rattling around. You in?”

“Of course.”

Sadie slipped on her sneakers and nudged Jamie in the back with her toes. “And what about you; what’re we all competing against?”

Some attempt at modesty covered her face. “What makes you think you have to compete against me?”

“Because we’ve known you for more than five minutes!”

“Well… yeah.” Grinning, she grabbed her sweater and pulled her boots back on before starting for the door. “It’s contemporary pointe. Marco and I used to do together, but I can rework it for one.”

“Oh, screw you, that sounds gorgeous.”

“Marco?” Cindy came up beside them and fell into step; Jamie hooked their arms together as they started out of the building and toward the nearest coffee shop. “Who the hell is Marco?”

Sadie gave an overly dramatic gasp and clutched her heart. “What? You mean to tell me you’ve never heard of Marco?”

“Nope.”

“You lucky fucker!”

Jamie rolled her eyes. “He was my dance partner and fuck buddy. We were in the same tour in Europe.”

“And he makes up about 74% of her stories.”

“He was my best friend!”

“You were surrounded by gorgeous European men!”

“Most of whom hardly spoke a word of English!”

“You lived out of Florence and toured Europe for four years! How did you not learn any other language?!”

“Hey! I learned the bare minimum to survive for four years, and that was enough! I learned all the important words in the major languages. And I’ll have you know that, more often than not, I didn’t let that language barrier stop me.” She stuck her tongue out and returned to the original point. “The song’s from this absolutely beautiful punk rock opera. Oh, god, I can’t wait to show you guys, it’s one of my most favorite dances that I’ve ever done. The entire thing is so... so paradoxical ; pop-ish music with opera-quality voices, ballet postures and being en pointe with all kinds of modern moves— we spent two and a half weeks making it _perfect_ in between shows. Gimme two days in a studio and I’ll have it worked out!”

Her friends matched their rolling eyes and long-suffering sighs as they hooked arms. “You’re a very difficult person to be friends with sometimes,” Sadie grumbled; it wasn’t unkind, though, and in fact something came up several times before. “I know people twice your age whose lives aren’t even a _fraction_ as cool as yours is.”

“Are you trying to flatter or guilt me into buying the coffee again?”

“That depends, is it working?”

“Try a little harder and maybe.”

Cindy took a moment to adjust into the most perfect pout possible, widened her eyes to puppy-like proportions, and let out a sigh. “You’re so wonderful and beautiful, your hair is a work of art and your clothes are exceptional—”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Fine, I’m broke, she’s broke, and you’re the only one of us who can actually buy coffee without dipping into the student loan funds.”

Jamie grinned. “Fair enough! Medium mocha and whatever these two are having, please!” She waited until the orders were placed, handed over a card, and hung out by the bar as soon as she got her receipt. “Will I be seeing you girls at the party on Friday? We can celebrate and/or mourn whatever the results of the auditions are. And all of Vince’s basketball boys are going to be there.”

“How many of ‘em are single?” Cindy asked at the exact same time as Sadie’s, “How hot are they?”

“Ninety-five percent of them are single, and they’re all hot.” Smiling, she accepted her coffee and blew on it before taking a sip. “And they’re all pretty sweet. So long as you can get over the fact they spend most of their days playing with their balls.”

Cindy snorted into her coffee; Sadie rolled her eyes. “You really need new jokes,” she grumbled, passing Cindy a tissue. “I’ve heard that one a million times.”

“It’s been two years; I’m working on it, alright?”

“I thought it was funny.”

“You’re a freshman; you haven’t had to put up with her as long as I have.” Sadie rolled her eyes and looked at her watch. “I’ve gotta run; I have a lecture in a bit and I’d better get to my hall.”

“I’ll come with.” Cindy smiled guiltily, raising her coffee. “Sorry to blackmail you and run, Jamie. Thanks for the coffee!”

She waved as they went, grinning; for all the animosity people liked to say was involved in the entertainment industry, there wasn’t a group of people in the world who could have been sweeter, kinder, or more understanding. None of them were ever jealous or petty, no one had ever tried to use her or exclude her, and never had anyone ever joined the department without instantly being included in the group that came with it.

With a yawn, Jamie made her way back into the studio; there was still a half hour until the next class, and it was blissfully empty. Coffee set aside, she kicked her shoes against the wall and traded them for pointes, dug her iPod from her bag, and hooked it up to the speaker system; as soon as the music began to play, the same song on repeat, she was dancing.

Since she was little, Jamie had danced; her earliest memories came from small studios, different teachers, directing her in movements she was too young to understand, too uncoordinated to perform— but it was something that had driven her, lit a passionate spark in her chest that she couldn’t shake. With all the determination of a foolish child, she’d said she would be a ballerina, even before she could reach the barre. For years after school, she took classes, went to theaters on the weekends and took more classes, begged and pleaded over summer vacation for just the littlest part, until it had paid off.

From her first ballet, there was no stopping her. Middle school was done with tutors backstage before rehearsals and homework was done during breaks; after the right director had seen her, high school was done online as she lived in Italy, trained with the best of the best, traveled to perform all across Europe, and fulfilled half of her life dreams by the time she was eighteen. Only then did she stop to take a breath.

For all of her talent and adoration of the dance, Jamie was a realist; she realized that a ballerina couldn’t be a ballerina forever, and thinking otherwise would be foolish, and to have a backup would only be sensible. In the most heartbreaking move of her life, she traded Florence for Boston, the ballet theater for college, and halted her pursuit of the title of Prima Ballerina for the pursuit of a BFA in dance. She’d someday go back to Florence, eventually get that prima position, but now there would be the knowledge that if she ran into some bad luck, there would always be the chance to teach dance, work alongside the ballet in another sort of way.

It was a four year detour, but damned if it wouldn’t be worth it.

The best thing about dance, Marco had once told her, was being able to give movement to passion, and to watch a person turn emotion into a living entity. He had been her best friend, most trusted partner, and one of her occasional lovers for the better part of her four years abroad; he understood the bio-mechanics of the movements they made in the mirrors and across the stage. He could name each muscle as it moved, tell her how her blood was pumping and her heart was racing, and channeled it into dance. Days like this, dancing to the song they’d done so many times together, she missed him especially badly.

And to be quite honest, choreography was not her strongest suit, and Marco would have been much better at bridging the gaps in the dance than she ever would be. Jamie scrunched her nose at herself in the mirror and pulled up into an arabesque, trying to decide if it was the best suited move for the music.

“Hey!” Without even stuttering in her dancing, Jamie changed her spot to see Steph leaning against the door.

“How long have you been there?”

“Three repeats of the song ago.” She waved her energy drink, technically only just adhering to the 'no food or drink in the studio' rule by staying in the doorway. “You know you’re doing it different every time?”

“Just a little bit; it used to be a duet.”

“So you just feel like you’re not dancing enough, then? Six hours a day’s not doing it for you?”

She laughed, finally stopped dancing, and went to turn off the music. “You’ll hear later, we have to audition for the winter concert on Friday.”

“Fuck me sideways.” Steph sighed and began stripping off her extra clothes, trading her sneakers for split-sole canvas shoes. “Then I guess gotta get started then, huh?”


	3. At Night

“Guys!” Jamie burst through the door, brandishing bags and calling at the top of her lungs when she finally, _finally_ made it home. “I come bearing Thai!”

Nothing would ever summon her roommates faster than the promise of food; both came scrambling to greet her, already in pajamas as they grabbed the bags straight from her hands. “You’re later than usual,” Vince said, muffled by a spring roll, as he dug around for plates and cutlery. “Long day?”

She nodded and started kicking off her boots, dropping her things. “And the buses were off, and getting the food took for-fucking-ever. Hey, make me up a plate, huh?”

“Will do!”

She darted off to get changed, and grabbed the food Alison handed her on her way to that same old, ragged chair, settling in for the same old routine.

It was the same nearly every night: Jamie was the last one home, never anything less than completely and utterly exhausted. She’d settle in with Vince and Alison and whatever they’d decided to eat that night, all surrounded by books and notebooks that were quickly and easily ignored in favor of Netflix instant queue. They would marathon half a dozen episodes of whatever show they’d been working through lately, until Jamie would undoubtedly be the first one to crawl off to bed. She closed up her laptop, plugged in her phone, scrubbed off her makeup, curled up, and fell asleep.

And then Jamie dreamed.

Every night, she dreamed the same dream, for as long as she could remember, for longer than she could remember, for as long as she’d been alive. Always the same, every second just as it had been the night before. There was no explanation, no rhyme or reason as to why, and after so many years she had learned to stop talking about it. She let her parents think it had been a strange childhood quirk, told her friends that she didn’t dream, and otherwise never thought twice about it.

Besides, what could she say that wouldn’t sound like she’d gone to bed high? _There was no way to seem completely sane while saying she dreamed of walking through stardust. That_ _she could watch the universe unfolding from her fingertips, how_ _she could see stars screaming as they died when she drifted off. There was no way to explain the feeling of anticipation that surged through her, the way it felt like time was laid out in front of her, frozen and_ waiting _._ _Waiting for what, she never knew, but sometimes she got the feeling that it was all waiting for her. Her and… something more, something she didn't have the words to explain._

If anyone knew, she figured, they would have called her an egomaniac and written her off as a nut.

But it really didn’t matter. In the end, when she woke up in the morning, she would brush it off and start the whole thing over again.

After all, it was only just a dream.


	4. Tuesday Afternoon

There’s a certain feeling that comes with a perfect afternoon in the fall, a kind of contented melancholy that ebbs and flows with each chilly bluster of the breeze and the still and resting warmth of the slowly fading sun. Jamie found she couldn’t give a name to the feeling, no matter how hard she tried, as she and Alison sat at a cafe table beside an open window, catching the cool of the wind and relaxing in their rare afternoon off. She sipped at her coffee, picked at a basket of fries, wondering why it was so easy to enjoy such a sad feeling, and why she hadn’t ordered more to eat, and why, exactly, was Alison not wiping that glob of mustard off of her chin?

“Weren't you just going on about a diet last week or something?” she said as she passed her friend a napkin.

Alison shrugged, patting the napkin at her face until it came away with the mustard. “I was. And then I got hungry and decided to say 'fuck it'. I'm just gonna keep outrunning my metabolism and hope for the best. And what about you?” She nudged Jamie's foot under the table. “I thought _you_ were going on and on just _last night_ about how you were gonna spend all day in the studio, huh?”

She scowled. “I totally meant that. Until I had to suffer through an hour and a half of Dr. Mitchel _droning_ the entire time about one useless algebraic function or another.”

“If you'd just passed the math proficiency exam last year, you wouldn't have this problem.”

“I was off by one question!”

Alison smirked. “Ain't that a bitch?”

“So you do want me to leave so you have to eat here all alone.”

“Never said that.” She grinned and popped another mustard-covered fry in her mouth. “You're just really easy to tease. It's great.”

Jamie rolled her eyes. “Go ahead, tell me more. I'll start bringing up your ex-boyfriends and we'll see who has more to be ashamed of, won't we?”

“Fifteen-Love, and Jamie takes the lead.” Their banter was never mean, and no matter how stinging they could sound to passers-by, it was always done with laughter and smiles, one more than happy to admit when the other had gotten a good, biting, accurate retort. “Hand me that burger, will you?”

“This is _my_ burger!”

“Are you going to finish it?”

A moment's consideration and she grudgingly pushed the plate across the table.

“For someone who eats like a linebacker, you give up on your food way too easily.”

“I'm a grazer and a drinker, thank you very much.” She rolled her eyes as she pulled her milkshake close and began nursing it. “Besides, I'm still holding onto the hope that I'll actually end up in the studio today; I don't need anything extra weighing me down. I'll totally make up for it at dinner.”

“How's Italian sound?”

“If you're the one picking it up, it sounds like a dream.”

“It _is_ my day in rotation.” As she sat back with a sigh, she checked her watch, rolling her eyes at the time. “I don't know about you, but I've gotta get this in the garbage and start heading to class.”

Jamie groaned. “I might as well follow; I'm going in the same direction.” Together they gathered the crumpled napkins and wrappers and dumped them in a nearby bin, set the trays aside, and paused to adjust jackets and bags before heading out.

“So here's a terrifying thought,” Alison finally said after half a block of silence. She looked at her companion, then down as she jammed her hands in her pockets. “I have to think about grad school this weekend.”

Sometimes it was easy to forget that her roommates were both two years ahead of her in their education, but that wasn't what surprised her most. “'Have to'? Does this mean it's official?”

“Officially. I'm going upwards and onwards. In terms of the degree, I mean; debt-wise, I'm jumping into a bottomless pit. But yeah.” She gave a nervous grin. “It's happening.”

“Don't think of it as more school,” she suggested. “Think of it as putting off adulthood for a few more years.”

“Weirdly enough, that does make it sound considerably less stressful.” Another minute, and she let out a long sigh. “I mean, my parents always wanted me to get a PhD, and I guess I kinda always thought it would be cool to be a doctor, but now that it's here, it's totally stressing me out. I have no idea where to even start looking— and it's really hard to get a doctorate in journalism.”

Jamie shrugged and shouldered past someone totally stationary in the middle of the sidewalk on their cell phone. “I'm pretty sure, as long as you're willing to pay for it, they'll help you get a PhD in just about anything.”

“Fuck yeah, American education system.”

She laughed. “Want me to help you look? Sunday afternoon, we can hunker down in our PJs, keep the coffee going non-stop, get a ginormous box of hangover food, and just have at it? Pull up every single post-grad program you're qualified for in the entire country?”

“See, this is why I love you.” Just outside her building, she stopped and pulled Jamie into a crushing hug, ignoring the way her friend squirmed and laughed. “You're the best and I accept your offer and will buy you lots and lots of wine for your birthday.”

“I hate wine,” Jamie giggled as she finally ducked away, smoothing her hair down. “And you might want to keep quite about providing alcohol to the underage while in public.”

“I said no such thing.” She opened the door and playfully slapped Jamie's ass as she started off. “I'll bring dinner with me!” she yelled into the crowd just before the door closed behind her.


	5. Dust

_In the beginning, everything was light, one excellent, blinding mass that burned as it exploded into being._

_Slowly the stars sorted themselves out— with a bit of help— swirling around each other, clinging to one another, brilliant shapes and colors that she made and changed at her whim, hurtling through vast nothingness. Everything and nothing, all at once, all in that beautiful little split second of eternity._

_The dust rose in columns and settled in disks; it wrapped around itself and made more planets, stars, galaxies, super clusters— something so incomprehensibly big it was only 'space'._

_It was terrifying._

_But oh, it was divine._


	6. Wellness for Dancers

Sometimes, it seemed positively unfair to call the curriculum of the dance majors 'classes' when it could involve hanging out in the quad on a picture-perfect afternoon doing yoga.

“Wellness for Dancers, isn't it crap?” Jamie said. Sighing, she folded into a King Pigeon, cracking her back and waiting for Kate and Pippa to do the same on her either side.

Pippa huffed and probably would have rolled her eyes had her head not been hanging completely upside-down. “You've said that every freaking week.”

“And it doesn't stop being crap, so clearly I'm going to have to keep saying it.”

“Nothing shuts her up,” Kate groaned, as if it weren't a well-known fact.

“Just be glad that Steph was annoying enough to get Alice to move out here.” There was a little awkward grin on Pippa's face as she caught the eye of a guy blatantly staring and winked as they all unfolded and sank into Child's pose with the echo of skull-meeting-pole behind them. “This is going to be hell in when it gets cold.”

Kate cackled. “Not even Steph'll be able to get us out of the studio then.”

“Oh, please, by then I won't even be showing up. Honestly, do you two know me at all? But seriously, how is this not one of the most ridiculous things ever?”

The one-credit yearly requirement was always the target of ridicule among its participants, if not as soon as the semester started, then easily by the halfway point. It was almost insulting sometimes, as if they didn't think the dancers knew or were capable of taking care of themselves— their livers, maybe not, but the rest of their bodies for sure. Stretches were second nature, proper breathing was something they'd been taught since childhood, and strength was something they already had in droves, along with the ability to make any muscle head at the gym jealous. And admittedly maybe they did need a bit of advice from the health-science students who consulted with them on the subject of nutrition, but it was _college_ , and all of their advice was consistently ignored in favor of junk food and truly disgusting amounts of coffee.

From the front row back, there was a wave of groans and movement as they shifted into shoulder stands. “Looks like we've got admirers.” They followed Kate's eyes to the sidewalk in front of the library where a group of guys had gathered, some seemingly so awestruck by what they were seeing that they looked like they'd just stopped walking. Some leered, which was a bit unsettling, but they were far outnumbered by the flat out hilarious ones.

“The one with the glasses is pretty cute.” As she eased back into plow, Pippa gave another wink, this time to a guy sitting on a bench, trying desperately hard to focus on what looked like an economics textbook in his hands; his face was down, but he suddenly flamed red, and she laughed breathlessly.

“Penelope Grace!” Jamie scolded playfully, reaching over to smack her arm. “First the uncoordinated one, now the nerd—”

“I'm allowed to flirt!”

“—I _encourage_ you to, but leave some for the rest of us!”

“Good thing you're not into nerds, then!”

“I wouldn't say that _exactly_.” The conversation paused so they could focus on unfolding and stretching flat. “Who could possibly say no to a sexy pair of reading glasses?”

Some of the other dancers around them giggled when they heard that.

From the front of the class, Alice shot them a look and directed them into a Crane pose, making them hold it for a ridiculously long time so it was nearly impossible to continue the conversation.

And by the time they were allowed to roll up their mats and pull on shoes, most of them were too tired and sweaty to want to talk. They communicated with grunts and hand gestures as they caught their breath and headed to the library cafe to recover. Only after they got their coffees could they even begin to form complete sentences again.

“Go get his number,” Jamie said, nudging Pippa as they emerged on the sidewalk, sipping iced coffees. “He's clearly interested, and not even creepy like the rest of them!”

But for a girl who could talk up one hell of a game, Pippa suddenly didn't even want to look in the guy's direction. “Oh. Nah. I've got enough going on.”

“Pfft, please. Like what?”

“Like… like, whatever.”

Which was enough to seal it for Kate; she rushed off to the bench, saying things they couldn't quite hear as Pippa tried to run into the nearest building while Jamie kept an iron grip on her hand.

By the time Kate returned, waving a tiny slip of paper like a victory flag, Pippa was tomato red and Jamie's arm had nearly been pulled out of its socket, and somehow they were all still smiling and laughing. “He said that you should text him the next time there's a dance party. Apparently our parties have become notorious—”

“Um, I think you mean famous,” Jamie teased.

“—nope, he totally said 'notorious', we're 'notorious' for fucking things up and he's up for one of those kinds of parties. Also said something about how you were really cute and he's seen you around before, but I think it's more important that our parties have been given the same description as RBG.”

Pippa, for her part, was stunned. Jamie, on the other hand, was giggling maniacally. “We're damn good wingmen, aren't we, Pip? You do all the hard work, then we swoop in and seal the deal for you.”

“The deal hasn't been sealed!”

“Oh, sweetie-honey-baby,” Kate teased, pecking her on the cheek. “Two drinks and it so has. Like you'd ever turn down that face.”

“Like _he'd_ ever turn down _that_ face,” Jamie added.

Laughing once again, Kate checked her watch. “I gotta split, I'm meeting with a study group ten minutes ago and they'll already be mad enough as it is.”

“You're a disgrace!” Jamie shouted down the sidewalk.

“You are, too!”

“Love you!”

“Love you, too, bitches!”


	7. Wednesday Evening

Late Wednesday afternoon found Jamie where every Wednesday did: practically sitting on the counter in the bathroom, staring intently at her reflection in the mirror. She was already mostly dolled up, skin smooth and lips a vampy red that complimented the skirt she'd picked after changing six or seven times, and was working carefully on her precisely coordinated eye makeup. More than just the usual morning, it was a time-consuming process that she completed weekly, usually with at least a few protests from at least one of her companions.

“ _Jamie_!” There was a pounding on the bathroom door as Vince shouted; she could hear him bouncing on the balls of his feet. “What the hell are you doing in there?!”

“I have night class tonight!” she called back, but only after she’d pulled away from doing her eyeliner. “You know I have to look pretty for my night class!”

“You’re dashing, gorgeous, drop-dead sexy, now do your fucking makeup somewhere else before I piss myself!”

“I'm in the middle of my eyeliner!”

“ _Now, dammit!_ ”

She sighed grudgingly and opened the door to let Vince push past her and shove her into the hallway. “Serves you right for drinking three coffees since lunch.”

He slammed the door and sighed loudly; Jamie rolled her eyes as she waited. “Marco never complained when I took forever to get ready again!”

“Then go freaking live with Marco again!” he called back. “You really have to show me the guy you do this all for someday. The way you talk, I fully expect him to be, like, God’s gift to humanity or something.”

“Vince, if you saw him, you would do back flips through broken glass and hot coals just to see him smile.”

“I seriously doubt that!”

“Bet you two million dollars!”

“Make it two billion and you’ve got yourself a deal!” There was a sound of flushing, a quick rush of water in the sink, and the door clicked open. Vince leaned on the door frame with a little smirk on his face. “You do know that if your plan actually works, he _is_ going to see you without makeup eventually.”

Jamie sighed and mirrored him. “If he ever does see me without makeup, it’ll be early in the morning, I’ll have already slept with him, and his disillusion won’t even matter.”

“He has to know your lips aren’t actually that red.”

“And yet I can’t find it in me to care.” She pushed him aside and resumed lining her eyes, looking herself over in the mirror. “Red lips are kinda my thing. And for the record, it’s not really a _plan_ , per se, it’s more or less just me looking pretty and giving him flirty looks and hoping something will come of it.”

“You’re so proactive.”

“You know me,” she murmured as she applied mascara, “always been a go-getter. Just like every other girl in that class.”

“And I can only assume you've spent all afternoon deciding what to wear.”

Jamie mumbled a quiet 'shut up' that served as confirmation enough to make him start laughing.

“Jeez, you'd think you never hit on a guy before. Come on, last month I saw you _wink_ at a guy across a club and end up going home with him with, like, less than twelve words exchanged between the two of you. _And_ you nearly scored a very embarrassed girl who had thought the wink was for her and was all ready to jump on that.”

“She was pretty cute, wasn't she?” Grinning, she blinked a few times and started on mascara. “Okay, but this is totally different. For one, there's no alcohol involved, which makes everything a whole lot more difficult. Then we're not at a club, so there's no, y'know, music and sexy dancing to set the mood.” Ever so carefully, she grabbed a bottle of make up setter, closed her eyes, and sprayed it over her face. “And last, and perhaps the most important, is that he's a _teacher's assistant_ , and flirting with him in the middle of a lecture hall is pretty much a guaranteed way to get kicked out of that class.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, that outfit is a very not-subtle in a sexy way. I'm sure you'll catch his eye.”

“Maybe this time.”

“And if that fails, you can always take a banana to class for a snack and eat it in some obscene way while not breaking eye-contact with him.”

“I'll keep that in mind. Maybe next week.” One more time she fluffed her hair, adjusted her blouse— looking just low enough to be immodest but not so far open as to be lewd— and shuffled past him for her heels. “Any chance you're driving by my building?”

He rolled his eyes and sighed, but smiled and sat on the couch. “No,” he said as she took the space next to him to fix up her shoes, “but it's only off from the gym by two blocks and I'll drive you. Can't have you ruining those fancy-ass pumps or getting hit on by some of the creeps that start coming out this time of night.”

“Shows what you know.” Smiling fondly, she leaned her head on his shoulder and let him wrap an arm around her shoulder. “These bitches are stilettos. And they, along with my feet, totally love you.”

With a ruffle of hair reminiscent of an older brother, she could practically hear Vince roll his eyes. “Love you, too.”


	8. Night Class

Fifteen minutes early— the only non-dance class she was ever early for— Jamie took her place in the second row of the lecture hall, pulled out her book, and waited patiently. There were already a few people scattered around, and slowly more began to trickle in, until there were 180 people ready to study Ancient and Medieval World History. Several watches beeped as the clock hit 6, and not a second later Mr. Matthews stepped through the door and took his place at the podium.

“Homework to the left, please, and then pass it forward,” he said into the microphone as he pulled out a pair of reading glasses from his jacket pocket, always dressed far too handsomely to _just_ be teaching a class. Jamie passed her homework down, trying not to stare at him the way most girls in the class were; their TA was unquestionably gorgeous. He pushed back his black hair and settled the reading glasses on the tip of his nose; it made his gray eyes that much more dramatic.

“Today we’ll be discussing mid-classical ancient history to the end of the chapter, a basic overview of the Roman Empire that I expect you to expand upon in your short essay for the week. We'll start with a man I'm sure you're all familiar with, Gaius Julius Caesar…” She sighed, settling in for a long two hours of class. She loved to focus on his voice, even if she ignored every historic thing he said; every now and then she caught a trace of an accent in his words— it would only last one word, though, and be gone before she could place it— and it was one of the most perfect voices she’d ever heard. What was more impressive was how effortlessly taught, how easily all the history seemed to come to him.

“— the First Triumvirate was then cemented with the marriages of Pompey to Julia, and Caesar’s third marriage, this time to Calpurnia, daughter of another Roman senator. Now began the portion of history Mark Antony referenced in his most famous speech in Shakespeare's _Julius Caesar_ , where Shakespeare's Brutus called him 'ambitious' in his endeavors— and as we know from that play, ambition is a grievous fault...”

He was educated, poised, and exuded effortless allure in everything he did. She was smitten, enamored, and absolutely hopeless, content to sit and stare and not retain a single word he said. Everything he was, everything he did, exuded confidence and grace and made him, without a doubt, the most beautiful, composed man she’d seen in a long time. Until...

“Alright,” he sighed once he’d talked for as long as actually possible, “that’s all we have time for tonight. Your graded essays are on the back table, as usual, the assignments for next week are on the class website, and if you have any questions, I’ll be here for another twenty minutes and you all know my office hours. Have a good week.”

This was easily one of her favorite things to see; she watched him sometimes as she was packing her things, staring daggers at whichever girl had come to him for some reason or another, as he turned into an unsure and stuttering mess of a man. It seemed he was more at ease in front of 150 students than he was face-to-face with a single flirty girl— it was adorable, quite frankly. He tripped over his words and talked with his hands, looking horrified, utterly unprepared for the encounters, no matter how many times it happened.

So that was why, as she pulled her coat on and slung her bag over her shoulder, Jamie was so surprised to hear his voice call, _steadily_ , “Miss Anderson, may I see you for a few moments?”

Her head snapped up as she stopped mid-step, turning slowly to stare; she looked like a deer caught in headlights, he still looked like the unflappable teacher's assistant as he watched her with a raised eyebrow.

With a deep breath to calm herself, she walked back to the podium, trying to ignore the whispers and glares of other girls, putting on the most convincing brave face she could manage. “It’s just Jamie, please, Mr. Matthews,” she corrected, surprising herself.

It seemed to surprise him, too, since he was visibly flustered for a moment before smiling again. “In that case, Jamie, please, call me Cole.”

“Cole, then.” He had a little, hardly there blush that made Jamie grin. “What can I do for you, Cole?”

“I was wondering if we could talk for a few minutes.” The grin grew wider as she watched him flip through one of his folders. He had nice hands, she noted, a cross between musician’s hands and worker’s— Her smile fell hard as those nice hands held up a stapled collection of papers. “So that maybe we could discuss this?”

It was the paper she’d turned in the week before; in the upper corner there was a large red ‘D+’. Jamie dumbly moved her lips as she tried to come up with an excuse.

“A ‘D+’ is still passing,” was all she could come up with.

“I was being generous.”

“Generous enough to let me pass?”

The smile never left his face; he chuckled, too, but it wasn’t unkind. “That’s not even mentioning the scores on your online quizzes, so sadly I'm afraid it won't quite be enough.”

“Do you accept bribes?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“I figured as much.” She sighed and shook her head. “What would you like to recommend I do?”

He paused as he returned her paper to his collection. “You’re a smart girl, Jamie; you’re the pride of the university. And I know you have the history in you, it’s just a matter of finding it.”

“So…? What, study harder? Take better notes? Find a tutor?”

“While those are all good suggestions, I had one of my own: meet with me. Let me help you. I can help you study and you can redo this paper.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Honestly, I don't trust the tutors provided by the school; I'm far more knowledgeable on the subjects, and it only makes sense to learn from the best source you can.”

“Deal.” She practically jumped at the chance. “When and where?”

Cole handed her a note card with an address and a phone number on it. “I have time this weekend— Saturday evening— if you might agree to come to my house.”

She stared at the neat script. “Are you asking me out?” she asked with a flirty smirk.

The confident facade cracked; Cole blushed bright red and stuttered nonsense as the pages slipped from his hands. “No! No, no, that’s not what I’m saying! I’m just— I don’t have the hours during the week, you see, and— and— and— and the buildings on campus are locked on the weekends so I don’t know where else to tell you—”

“I’m teasing you,” she finally chuckled, picking up a few of the further scattered papers to hand to him. “It’s just that, if Saturday is the only day you’re free, it might have to be a little later. My roommates are taking me out for dinner to celebrate my birthday, and we already made reservations, so…”

“Oh, no, it’s fine, I know! No, I know, and I completely understand, a little later is perfectly fine.”

Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “You ‘know’?”

It brought about another round of stuttering and stumbling to recover. “Wait! No, that’s not— I didn’t mean that how it sounded! It’s- it’s the list! The class list! The one with your email— everyone’s email— it also has student ID numbers and birthdays. I saw. When I was going through your grades. I saw that your birthday was this weekend, and I guessed you'd be doing something to celebrate. I’m- I'm not trying to be creepy, I swear!”

Good god, he was adorable. “I believe you! Saturday at eight sound alright by you?”

He nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose with a distant air of humiliation. “Eight sounds acceptable. Feel free to email me if you need to delay or anything. I have to prepare for my classes tomorrow, I’m afraid. If you’ll excuse me, Miss And—”

“Jamie.”

“Jamie.” Again he blushed. “Saturday, then.”

“Saturday.”

The smile on her face refused to leave as she watched him go; and even though the cool and self-assured demeanor was back, Jamie swore she saw an adorable little crack that he couldn’t quite pull together again.


	9. Chapter 9

“What the hell did you do?”

Jamie was half a step over the threshold when Alison gave her a look; her grin turned into an annoyed scowl as Alison tutted from the fridge. “I didn’t even do anything!”

“Really? Funny, 'cause that look on your face reminds me of the time my cat finally ate my goldfish and didn't think I'd find out.” She picked a bag of carrots and a bottle of ranch dressing and made for the couch, clicking on the TV. “Come on, out with it: what did you do? Oh, god, did you kick another guy on the bus? Seriously, is there blood?”

“That one one time.” A second more sulking and Jamie perked up, striking a pose in front of the TV. “I am only just passing history!”

A carrot and a glob of dressing plopped on the floor. “You’re not serious.”

“Completely.”

“Then is there a reason you look like you just shit gold?”

“Beautiful analogy.”

“I’m being as serious as you are.”

Jamie plopped on a big chair and kicked up her feet. “I’m going to get private tutoring. On Saturday night. With _Mr. Matthews_.”

The carrot she’d just picked up fell through fumbling fingers as Alison’s jaw dropped.

“I know, right?!”

“You’re going to skip out of the birthday dinner we’ve been planning for a month?!”

“That’s what you’re focusing on? No, I’m going over after we’re done with dinner, now can we be excited?”

“Going to his house on a Saturday night to study?” Alison made a face. “That sounds a little sketch.”

“So? You know me, I love a good bit of moral ambiguity; this is all right up my alley.” She shook her head. “It only sounds sketch because you know I want to screw him. But to him, I’m a lazy student who needs a little extra help mastering the basics of medieval and renaissance history that’s going to him for help.”

“Here I thought you were both.”

“I am.

“How’s that working out for you?”

Jamie grumbled. “I’m neither contentedly sexed up nor academically satisfied.”

“So the same old same?” Vince asked as he came into the room, fresh from the shower.

“Oh, good, you’re here! You’ve got to drive me somewhere after dinner on Saturday.”

He whined. “Awe, why?”

“‘Cause I’m trying not to fail history.”

“What?” He seemed startled. “I was just complaining, I wasn’t expecting an actual answer, and really not that one.”

“Remember the gorgeous TA?”

He rolled his eyes. “Like I could ever actually forget.”

“Well, I’m doing suckish in his class—”

“Because you stare at him instead of taking notes?”

“—you can’t prove that, and he’s going to help me fix my last paper and give me a bit of tutoring. And I’m going to take full advantage of that.”

“How? By unsuccessfully trying to seduce him? Obviously that’s worked wonders for you so far.”

With a scowl, Jamie reached into Alison’s bag of carrots and threw one at him. “ _No_. I’m actually going to pay attention and take whatever help he’ll give me. Believe it or not, I don’t want to fail this class. I’m just going to bask in the awesome opportunity as best as I can and look gorgeous and hope for the best.”

Vince and Alison shared the same long-suffering look, two roommates who clearly didn’t have it in them to argue and point out the flaws in their best friend and her plan, and instead only sighed and shrugged. “Have at it,” Alison said with a roll of her eyes.

“I’ll drive you, I guess that’s literally the least I can do. And then, I guess, wait by the phone for you to summon me to pick you up?”

“I’m working off of the assumption that I’m going to be there until morning.” She shrugged and went for a bag of pretzels. “And if not, I’ll catch a bus.”

“At night?!”

“I have mace!”

“No. You’ll call me, no matter what hour, and I’ll drive you.”

“Ugh, fine, _mom_.” She had no intention of it, but agreeing was the easiest way to get him to drop it. As they settled in, she ducked into her bedroom and reemerged with pajamas. Each of them had a glass of wine, a plate of the pasta Vince had brought on his way home, and took their places around the living room to start _The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt._ “How was basketball?” Jamie asked through a mouthful of noodles, already moving on to the next conversation. “Get your hands on any good balls today?”


	10. Dust Gathers

_The stars gathered dust around them, thin clouds that gathered onto themselves until they made pretty little pebbles, growing bigger and bigger until the little marbles flew in circles around the burning gasses._

_And the stars swirled en masse, clustering into their own massive, beautiful whirls that dotted the emptiness. She pushed them together and pulled them apart with her toes as she danced between them. They tickled, and she giggled, watching as each of her movements made a work of art out of the columns and pillars of dusty colors._

_The rings were the prettiest, though; she watched those for years and years and single seconds, and not even a moment of eternity had passed. Those she danced over, close enough to watch but far enough away to keep from spoiling any of the delicate beauty with her steps._

_This one would be great, this little cluster of nothing that rounded a great white star, already she knew it, giggling as it gathered in the sharp light. This one would be wonderful one day._


	11. Auditions

There was approximately no dancing done in any dance studio that Friday.

“It’s just to study,” Jamie said once again, looking at her friends behind her in the mirror. Her face was propped up in her hands, arms rested on the lower of the two barres as her foot was propped up on the higher one, stretching her leg. The same stretch she’d been doing for ten minutes. Mr. Kennedy was in another studio along with six other professors, judging the auditions, and their class was nervously pacing, working out parts of their dances that weren’t quite perfect, or just lazing around, waiting for their turn. Her friends were in similar positions all around, listening and gossiping eagerly.

Kate laughed, switching her split on the floor for the twentieth time. “Who cares? Jamie, you’re going to be curled up on a couch with a book and a gorgeous man for _hours_. Who cares if it’s just to study?! It's more action than I'm gonna see this whole damn weekend.”

“And if you just happen to end up riding him like kinky girl you are, then that’s even better,” Sadie teased; Jamie gave a halfhearted swat at the girl who was bending over backwards.

“Being on top does not make me kinky,” Jamie giggled. “Mounting him in the living room in front of all his roommates, I’d give you that, but not just regular old—”

“Can we not talk about your sex life, please?” Jordan cut her off. “I mean, no offense, but that’s not something I want to think about.”

She finally switched her legs on the barre as she whined at him. “But Jordan, if you could just _see_ him!”

“I have! And for some reason I have to keep reminding you that I’m straight!”

“You don’t have to be gay to see that he’s breathtaking!”

“Seriously, is there something else we can talk about?”

“As a matter of fact,” Steph, who was on the floor, not even pretending to be stretching, said as she raised her hand, “Halloween. It's, like, no time away, and I have absolutely no plans. Who's having the party?”

All eyes went to Kate, who rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right, like I wouldn't be completely evicted after the last time. Party House is closed until at least January, guys, keep dreaming.”

“Cooper Street?” Sadie offered. “It's not much, but at least it's a start. And if we spill into the halls and parking lot, I'm sure we wouldn't be the only ones, and the landlords probably won't call the cops on all of their tenants.” Kate rolled her eyes at her friend's pointed look. “Probably. Worth a shot. How about it? I've even got a good stock of booze!”

“And your roommates will agree to this?” Jordan asked.

“As long as they get to drink too, they're always up for a good party.”

“Oh! Speaking of!” Jamie grinned as she turned and sank gracefully to the floor in a straddle split, then leaned onto her elbows as she looked up at her friends. “How many of you are coming to my birthday party tonight, and how many can I count on to get me totally fucked up?”

All hands went up. “Is it even a question?”

“Obviously, since I just asked it. Roll in after dark, alright? Pippa, I expect the econ hottie to be there. BYOB, unless you've got someone to share with, everyone is on 'Make Sure Jamie Doesn't Do Things We'll All Regret' Duty, and all of the basketball players are going to be there for you ladies who are hoping to get luckier than I am.”

Cindy waved her hand. “If I need help deciding on one, can you make a recommendation?”

“Basketball players or booze?”

“Oh, please, the guys, duh.”

“I'll be happy to!”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Alright, since we've got one night of debauchery out of the way, can we figure out the other half of Halloween? We've got Cooper Street, now everyone needs to start thinking on a theme; what about Irrelevant 2.0—?”

The room hushed nearly instantly as the door opened; Mr. Kennedy stepped through with a list in his hand. “May I have Zack Levinson,” he said, loudly and clearly, “with Jamie Anderson on deck?”

Jamie’s heart started racing as soon as he left the studio, Zack on his heels. With all of her friends’ eyes on her, she finally pulled out of her stretch. “Any last words?” she chuckled, pulling into a pirouette on each leg, just to check her form in the mirror one last time.

“Merde,” a couple of them offered.

“Don’t suck!” was Kate’s advice.

With a dramatic roll of her eyes, Jamie took her CD case in one hand and waited patiently by the door for a minute, rising and falling from flat feet to toes and back, counting the seconds slowly in her head before Zack returned; Mr. Kennedy followed him not a moment later, and led her into the next studio with a smile.

“Well, Ms. Anderson,” he said once her CD was in the player and she was standing in the middle of the room; he sat nearly in the middle of a long table, professors on each side, the head of the department dead center, all of them watching her closely. “Would you like to show us what you have?”

Jamie nodded. Someone started the music. She rose onto her toes, head down, and waited for the music to start.


	12. Birthday Party

“ _Bow down, bitches!”_ Jamie yelled at the top of her lungs as Vince carried her into the room in a piggy-back; the room of dancers and basketball players, already well on their way to ‘wasted’, cheered just as loudly. “You’re in the presence of a freaking goddess!”

“We heard!” Kevin was the first to greet her— appropriate, as it was his apartment— and dramatically present her a Burger King crown covered completely in silver glitter as she kicked off her shoes and slid from Vince's back.. “All yours, Birthday Bitch!”

“Hell yeah! And my—?”

He produced the bottle of 99 Blackberries before she’d even started asking; just as Vince had promised, her name had been Sharpie-d all over it— in an impressively artistic sort of way, nonetheless.

“See, this is why I keep you around.” Already the slightest bit tipsy from a bit of pre-gaming, she kissed him and giggled before going further into the party.

Kate tackled her with an enthusiastic shout not a second later. “Happy Birthday, Sexy! Already forgetting the rules in place for your own sanity?”

Jamie gave Kevin an apologetic look. “Sorry, Kev! Maybe some other time!”

“Hopefully not!” he teased before vanishing back into the party.

With Vince already starting a game of Beer Pong, and Alison dancing in what looked like a mosh pit, Jamie resorted to throwing an arm around Kate and shuffling them both across the room. “It’s my birthday,” she pouted, falling into a chair and pulling her friend into her lap, “I’m overworked, horribly under-intoxicated, and you’re telling me what I can’t do, how is that fair?”

“D’you really want a repeat of last year, second semester?”

Guiltily, Jamie thought of the senior point guard she’d slept with at a start-of-term party, all of the calls that she’d ignored, and the awkward tension at every party they’d both attended for the entire semester. “How was I supposed to know he was going to get all clingy and stuff? If I'd known he wanted a girlfriend, I wouldn't have even looked at him,” she grumbled as she took a shot from her bottle.

“The rules are only there for your own well being,” Kate said condescendingly. “Besides, don’t you want to save up any good juju you’re getting from the god of getting lucky for tomorrow night? You need all the luck you can get there. Wasting it on Kevin is something you’d regret for _ages_.”

“And if I don’t get lucky tomorrow?”

“Then come back to him with half a bottle of whiskey and you’re good to go. Hell, you could probably skip the whiskey.” She tried to take the bottle, pouting when Jamie tried to bite her fingers. “Actually, I doubt you’d have to do more than tackle him once he opened the door. Just remember that _Kevin_ is not a senior, so that would mean _two full years_ of awkward parties, so think before you screw, alright?”

“Maybe just this once,” she giggled, knowing that her friend was completely right. “Fine, maybe I'll go hunting down Ira instead.”

“He's not here though.”

“Yeah, but I can at least have him on deck in case tomorrow doesn't go well!”

“Why can't you put this much planning into your actual _intended_ conquest?”

Jamie shrugged and took a swig. “Because I'd rather deal in certainties than risks. Come up with a Halloween costume yet?”

Kate snorted. “Smooth change of subject. No, I don't. Can I raid your closet?”

“Always! You're just not allowed to be a pirate queen, and not allowed to tell anyone else where it came from; I'm not a Goodwill, and they're gonna hate me if they don't get a chance to pick through it.” She took a swig and grimaced. “That's my thing. Damn, this shit is worse than I remember.”

“Then stop drinking it!”

“It's awful, but I'm not throwing away my shots! It's cheap, and when you're drunk enough it tastes like candy.”

With a shrug, Kate wiggled out of her lap and grabbed her free hand, pulling her into the dance floor, ignoring the way a good bit of the drink sloshed out of the bottle. “Are you supposed to be the dancing queen or was that just all talk?!”

So they did just that; the night fast became a blur of drinks and dances, different partners on all sides for each song, a mess of stolen kisses and crushed cups once her bottle hand been shared and spent. Vince was off in a corner at one point with someone she couldn't even recognize, getting acquainted on a very intimate level. At least two hours later and Alison joined her on in the dance, red-faced and laughing as sweat rolled down her forehead and a guy from one of her classes dancing with her.

Someone shouted something about a fight down the block, and though a crowd went to see, still Jamie danced on, arms draped around a familiar body whose lips tasted like lemons and gin— but one taste, and Kevin laughed from deep in his chest, pushing her back gently. “I'm flattered you keep trying so hard,” he teased, “but that'd be a fucking bad idea and you know it!”

Which only made her laugh more, because of course she knew it, and everyone else in the room knew it, but it was still a good night to dance and flirt, even if she took it no further from then on. Someone had put another cup in her hand, and this one was some attempt at a Long Island Iced Tea that made her head spin. Alison had vanished, and eventually returned, looking only a little more ragged than when she'd gone as she started dancing, her partner gone and Jamie the substitute.

By the time Vince was pulling her arm over his shoulder, the room was spinning. Jamie could only look at her phone long enough to make out a '4' before it made her head hurt, and Alison couldn't check hers without swearing at the light. By then, the party had mostly died down, most of the hours had run together so well she wasn't entirely sure they had happened, and the three roommates stumbled the two blocks back to their place, laughing and singing and joking the entire way.

And because it was a special occasion, they even made a point of helping their best friend into bed, giggling as she squeezed her eyes shut against what she swore was the tilt of the entire building. “And a happy birthday, you hot fucking mess,” Vince said as means of goodnight.

“Screw you,” she yawned, curling up and pulling the pillow over her head just before the door clicked shut. “Remember? I'm a freaking goddess.”


	13. Stars Die

_A star's death was a work of art._

_It was such a careful balance of energy, burning itself from the inside out,_ _lashing out with white-hot fury in fine wispy ribbons that dissipated into the vast emptiness. It would burn down into itself, eat all it was made of from the outside in, and then…_

_It was screaming, one last reminder that it didn't want to be forgotten. It erupted a thousand times its size, spewing heat and light and gas across the space, desperately reaching out as far as it could,_ _more brightly than it ever had been before in all of its life._

_And then it was gone. In the blink of an eye, it burned itself to nothing. Gone, no evidence it had ever been there but for the dust._

_Dust that would go on. Dust that would gather again, dust that might become another star, and the little rocks slinging in circles around it. Dust that might become more, might be the start of life._

_Stars never really died._

_That may have been the most beautiful thing of all._


	14. Saturday Afternoon

“She’s bringing out the big guns!” Alison half-yelled dramatically as Jamie shuffled out of the bathroom, razor in hand, the next afternoon. “The legs are being shaved, I repeat, _the legs are being shaved_!”

“Oh, shut up.”

“I’m serious! This from the girl who told me— and I quote, Vince can back me up on this— ‘if the dance gods had intended for us to shave our legs, they wouldn’t have invented tights’.”

Jamie scowled as she opened the hall cupboard—the overflow storage for everything that wouldn’t fit in its proper place— and dug around for a can of shaving lotion. “I’m doing everything in my power to get laid tonight, and I am _not_ going to get laid with legs like Vince’s.”

“What?” he asked, poking his head out from his room.

“If all goes well, he’s already going to see me without makeup in the morning; I don’t need anything else to screw with my confidence.”

“And if you don’t get laid tonight?”

“Then I could’ve just worn the fucking tights,” she grumbled. “And probably just had my pick of _any_ guys at that party last night.”

“Did you make fun of my legs?”

Alison both waved him off as Jamie started searching on another shelf. “So just out of curiosity, what is it about this guy that makes him worthy of shaved legs? I’ve known you for two years and not a single guy has deserved that honor. Not even for your own party. Like, seriously, aside from how hot he is, what’s he got going for him?”

“Well. He’s smart, he studies history with a passion, and…”

They stood there staring at each other in a moment of silence.

Alison finally sighed. “Okay, go ahead.”

“He’s got these really pretty eyes, and this great hair that looks like it’d be really fun to play with and run your hands through, and this stubble so that he always looks like he’s got five o’clock shadow and it’d probably tickle if he kissed you, and he’s really, _really_ hot.” She let out a frustrated sigh and grabbed a can of shaving lotion and went back to the bathroom. “It’s actually unfair how hot he is. Call me shallow, I don’t care. He’s hot as fuck, and that’s good enough for me.”

Vince still stood in the doorway, looking at Alison. “What’s wrong with my legs?”

“They look like forests.”

“They’re supposed to!”

“Of course I know that, and Jamie knows that, she’s just saying hurtful things because she’s nervous.”

“I am not!” Jamie snapped from the bathroom. “Now shut up and go get dressed for dinner.”

“We’ve still got an hour before our reservations and I still have half a hangover!”

“Is it just me, or is that becoming a major part of your personality? Alison McCarthy: always adaptable, incredibly independent, and hella hungover.” She laughed at her own joke, probably more than it deserved. “C’mon. It’s your own damn fault.”

“It was your birthday party! I was celebrating your birth in the best way I knew how!”

“You do get brownie points for that, but you still have to get dressed.” On her way back to her room, she stopped to grab that favorite pair of shoes and toss them to the couch. “There. You can wear those tonight. Will that get your ass in gear?”

Alison jumped up, swayed for a moment until she found her balance, and beamed as she saluted. “Ma’am, yes ma’am!”

Vince could only roll his eyes.


	15. Saturday Night

Their dinner was extravagant to say the least, the fanciest meal Jamie had had since moving to Boston, and thankfully smooth, if not over too fast. But, if she was honest with herself, Jamie was not entirely devastated when they piled into Vince’s car and booted up the GPS to the address Cole had given her. Of course, that was when her eyes widened in horror: to say Cole had a house ‘in Boston’ was really only correct in definition alone. She watched, a little shocked as they were directed out of the city, a full half hour from the university, all the way into the _suburbs_.

“Cheer up,” Alison said as comfortingly as she could when Jamie voiced her horrors. “At least it’s not too sketchy. It all looks pretty freaking nice out here.”

“Second right,” Jamie mumbled to Vince. “Fourth on the… oh. Oh, fucking hell…”

Vince slammed on the brakes as he realized what she meant. Alison, too, could only stare, mouth agape in uncharacteristic silence.

“Are you sure this is right?” he asked quietly.

Jamie shook her head. “No. But I will marry whoever owns this house, because they must be _loaded_.”

To say Cole had a _house_ in Boston was really only correct in definition alone. She slipped out of the car as gracefully as possible in case someone could be watching from a window, and stared in awe at the mansion they were in front of. “Don’t call me, I’ll call you,” she said as Alison passed her book bag through the open passenger’s window.

“Jesus. Hey, Jamie?” Vince called as she walked past his door. “I want you to know this, because I’m your friend: if you don’t screw him, _I will_.”

“Oh, up yours.”

“If that’s the way it has to be done, just so long as he buys me a Rolex or a Ferrari first.”

She cracked a nervous smile and flipped him off, finally starting up the front walk, heels teetering a bit in her uncertainty.

Cole must have been waiting, because he answered the door after her first hesitant knock. He was smiling, his glasses were hooked on the collar of his shirt, and his hair looked like he’d been running his hands through it— nervously, maybe? “Evening,” he said with a beaming smile. “Come in, please; let me take your coat.”

She smiled as she undid the buttons. “You didn’t tell me you were living in a castle,” she teased, handing over the coat. “I nearly had a heart attack. My roommates could be dead of shock right now.”

“It’s not mine, exactly,” he chuckled, carefully hanging the coat on a peg by the door. “Four graduate students, all with overly generous monthly stipends and no desire to be cramped in a cheap apartment— it only made sense. And… and the rent is surprisingly…”

“What?” Jamie froze, startled by his sudden silence and stare. “What’s wrong?”

“You— uh, you look— you’re just— beautiful,” he said hesitantly. “Your, um, birthday dinner— right?”

She grinned proudly and spun on her heel once. “Fleming’s Steakhouse— my treat, of course— is not something you do halfway.”

“I thought Birthday Girls weren’t supposed to buy their own dinner?”

“When Birthday Girl is the one who spent years working as a ballerina, and the other diners have student loans going out their asses, I tend to make an exception.”

“Well, you look beautiful. If I didn’t know any better, I would expect to see you in the society pages tomorrow morning.”

“And rightfully so!” Her kingdom for a newspaper with society pages, she thought, pulling at her book bag as the strap dug into her shoulder. “So, are we going to do this now, or what?”

His face flushed. “Yes, of course, I’m so sorry; it’s just… you are stunning.”

“As you’ve said.”

He held an arm out, directing her down the hall toward the back of the house. “I hope you won’t be opposed to my housemates being around; we’ve just been eating dinner. Uh, Greek food, actually, if you’re still hungry. I mean, you’re probably not, I just want to make sure you know the offer’s out there. And if you’d like anything to drink, just say the word, and I’ll— or someone will—”

“She’s been in the house for a minute and a half and you’re already rambling.” A head poked around the corner at the end of the hall; she was a darker skinned woman with a somewhat British voice, coming across the floor backwards on a wheelie chair, picking the olives out of a gyro and tossing them in her mouth. “Let the poor girl settle in before you freak her out.”

Cole’s face flushed. “Jamie, meet Eleonora.”

“But please, call me Ellie.” Her hair was in hundreds of long, smooth braids that fell around her in a cascade, and she pushed a few stray ones back out of her face; her smile was bright as she pushed her chair aside to let Jamie and Cole pass into the kitchen; the air smelled like sheer flowers where she had been. “He’s really bad at chilling out, it’s not just you, I promise.”

Although Jamie would’ve taken it as a compliment to be the reason for his being flustered, she laughed and shook her head. “Totally different from the man who teaches my class. Calm, cool, and collected he is not.”

His face was even redder; she pretended not to notice as he tried to take the attention away from himself by pointing over her shoulder. “And over there—” on a couch in the living room adjacent to the kitchen and dining room “—is Fox—”

“What’s up?!” he yelled, jumping up for just a second to turn and smile before plopping back down again. Fox was a pleasant looking young man, sitting at the TV with a far-off look on his face. He was pale as a sheet, she would’ve even said sickly had it not been for the bright red blush of excitement in his cheeks, a stark contrast to the lumberjack-esque beard that covered most of his face. Thick black glasses rested on the edge of his nose, which he glared over as he pounded on the game controller, and his hair— long, nearly as long as hers, and so blonde it was practically white— was pulled back to keep it out of his face. “Dammit, Cole! You made me hit the freaking banana peel!”

“Pfft,” man sitting beside him laughed. “It’s not his fault you’re bad at this game.”

“Can it, Soldier Boy!”

“And that would be Donovan,” Cole continued, looking as if he was unsure if he should be annoyed or amused.

“Don!”

“Sorry, Don.” Don reached a hand over his shoulder to shake hers; his hand was huge, but so was the rest of him. He was olive-skinned, with broad muscles all over and little laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. His dark hair was slowly growing out of a buzz cut, just a little longer than what she would call ‘fuzzy’. He looked, well, like a soldier, she thought, wondering if it was just a teasing name or a matter of fact.

“I think you guys took him a little too seriously when he said ‘be casual’,” Ellie said as she reappeared— wheelie chair gone now— and sat at the table, watching the proceedings with a smirk on her face.

Jamie turned, confusion furrowing her brow, to see Cole ducking his head while his blush grew darker high on his cheeks. “What’s she talking about?”

Before her TA could answer, Fox yelled from the couch. “He doesn’t want us to embarrass him!”

“Cole doesn’t bring girls home to us,” Don added.

“And he thinks— probably rightly so— that we’re going to end up scaring you off with our antics,” Ellie concluded, casually flipping through a magazine.

All the while, Jamie’s smile grew wider as Cole’s face grew to the color of tomatoes.

“Not that they have a reason to— or that- I mean, you’re here to study, of course, just that— not— Um, I only meant—”

“He’s hoping you’ll still respect him come morning,” Ellie chuckled. “Despite all of our antics. Although it does make me wonder, Cole, how _any_ of your students can respect you when you have _that_ much trouble stringing together words. Seriously, Jamie, how the hell does he ever manage to teach?”

Ellie was fast becoming Jamie’s favorite. “Search me.”

“Addressing 150 people is easy,” Cole mumbled as he grabbed his messenger bag from the back of a chair. “Individual people are hard.”

“Well, since he still seems to be having a little difficulty,” Ellie teased, standing and going to the kitchen, “then I’ll play hostess for a bit. Settle in, make yourself comfortable. Can I get you a drink?”

Cole led her to one of the couches; Jamie watched as he pulled out a book and handful of papers, while Ellie started pulling bottles out of a cabinet— and continued, until there were at least twenty bottles on the counter. “You know I’m only turning twenty, right?” she asked, eyes wide; they weren’t cheap liquors, either, everything she was looking at was top shelf stuff.

Don actually paused the game to look over at her. “You toured Europe all through your teens and you expect us to believe you don’t have a favorite drink?”

“What kinds of vodka do you have?”

They all laughed— save for Cole, who gave his roommates a disapproving look that did nothing to stop them. “I’ll make you something good, if you trust me,” Ellie promised.

“Bring it on!”

“And while she does that,” Cole said with a sigh, “we can start here.” He opened the book to one of the carefully marked pages. As soon as he looked at the words, all of the uncertain skittishness vanished completely. “I’ve been reading over your paper from the week before last about early classical ancient history, and I noticed you spent an inordinate amount of time focused on Greece, and while what you wrote was technically correct, the Greek contributions to the world should have only made a fraction of what you discussed. The entirety of Asia was at that time—”

“Here.” Ellie reached over the couch handed her a glass filled nearly to the brim with something copper colored and smelling of apples. Grinning, she leaned on the back of the couch. “You’ll need this, if I know him; we call it History Juice.”

Jamie took a sip and immediately coughed in surprise as it burned down her throat.

“Apple cider, hard sparkling cider, caramel apple vodka, rum, and cinnamon schnapps!” Fox called, still not taking his eyes from the game.

Jamie grinned. “I like you guys.” And now that she was expecting it, the second sip went down much more smoothly.

“We’ve got something for every occasion.” Ellie walked around and sat down between them, cutting off Cole’s words before he could even start speaking; he gave them both a Look and a heavy sigh before closing his book. “History Juice, English Juice, Science Juice, Programming Lab Juice—”

“My favorite is Philosophy Juice!” Fox cut in once again.

To Jamie’s confused expression, Ellie explained, “Grey Goose, Absolut, Stoli, and a little bit of OJ.”

“I cannot get over how cool you are.”

“If all of you are going to continue corrupting my student, I’m going to banish you from my house for the next fifty years,” Cole mumbled, folding his glasses and setting the book aside to get up and pour a drink of his own.

“Aren’t you quite the dramatic one?” Ellie teased, kicking him lightly as he walked past her. “He gets way too into history. Takes it entirely too seriously, even the professor he’s teaching for thinks so.”

“He does not!” Cole called indignantly from the kitchen.

“Keep telling yourself that!” She rolled her eyes. “But he’ll help you, don’t worry; he hates to see any students fail.”

“Honestly, we were surprised,” Fox chimed in as Cole returned with a short glass. “I mean, when we heard your name. You know you’re, like, the pride of the university, right, with all the dance stuff you’ve done?”

“Y'know, I think I remember doing something like that, maybe once or twice, now that you mention it.” It was a little flattering, not only to know he’d talked about her, but that they knew who she was. A little ego feeding was never a bad thing. “Why were you surprised?”

Fox pulled a face; Jamie tried to pretend she didn’t see Ellie and Cole exchange a small look. “Because you’ve lived in one of the most fantastic, old, beautiful regions on the planet. We thought you’d have picked up on some of the crap he’s teaching you.”

“Hey!”

Jamie blushed a little; it was true, for all the cities she’d lived in, she probably should have picked up on at least a little bit of something, but she simply hadn’t. “I almost never left studios,” she said, fumbling for an excuse. “Or theaters. Or my room. Or—” She stopped herself before she could finish with ‘beds’. “… other… places.”

“Regardless, he obviously sees something in you.”

Was the entire point of the night supposed to be making her flustered? Thankfully, Cole picked that moment to set his glass on the coffee table and pick up his book again. “And if you guys don’t mind, I think I’d like to try and focus on that ‘crap’ now. Is that alright by you?”

His friends grumbled, but turned back to begin another game and left Jamie to dig through her bag for her book. “Right. You were saying…? About, um, Greece?”

“About society and cultures _other_ than Greece.” He pointed at something in his book; she leaned over to look, but couldn’t figure out what it might have been. There were handwritten notes in every possible space, between typed lines and in the margins, over the pictures, even overlapping each other. It looked like something a crazy person might have written, and there wasn’t anything of it that made sense to her, but Jamie only smiled and nodded as if she understood. “China was growing into a major power itself at that time, transitioning from what we now recognize as one era to anoth—”

“Holy shit, is that _Assassin’s Creed?!_ ” Jamie cut him off as she jumped from the couch, watching the game as it finally loaded.

Don looked up excitedly. “You play?!”

“No, but I’ve always wanted to!” She shoved the book aside and rushed over, plopping down between both men and ignoring the groan from Cole and the laughter from Ellie. “We’ve only got a Nintendo at my apartment. But I’ve heard this is, like, the best game ever.”

“The original one is.” He pressed the controller into her hands. “Go ahead, try it out.”

“Are you sure? I don't wanna interrupt whatever you guys were about to do.”

“Nah, we've played it a thousand times. Do it! We'll help you figure it out. D'you have a 360?”

“I wish. Marco— my best friend at the ballet— had an old N64 hooked up in his room. It worked 50% of the time and never saved; I spent years trying to beat _Paper Mario_. Still haven't. My roommates are trying to make up for it.”

“I think we have that somewhere. With saving capabilities.

She laughed and started fumbling with the controls. “Do I have to customize a character? 'Cause we could be here for hours doing that.”

“Nah, you're good. Don't give us that look, Cole!” Fox added; Jamie looked over her shoulder as he waved the man off, only to see Cole leaning back and rubbing his eyes tiredly. “This totally counts as history!”

“No, it doesn't, not in the least.” But he was smiling at her as he stood and stretched. “Both of you, banished, fifty years.” Jamie turned her attention back to the game, but was pretty sure he heard him mutter to Ellie, as he made a plate of food, “Somehow I knew something like this was going to happen.”

She was less subtle as she laughed and smacked his shoulder. “Please, don't go acting all mopey when you were totally _hoping_ for this; sit down, eat your dinner, and let them have their fun. The girl's got enough stress without you ruining her Saturday night.”

“He's not actually ruining it!” Jamie tried to call, stealing a glance as she fumbled through the introduction of the game. “I really seriously do want to pass this class. It means a lot that you'd invite me into your own home just to— shit! What'd I just do?!”

Fox tried to direct her a little as Cole sighed. “Your sincerity is refreshing. Your ADHD-like tendencies, however...”

“It's the entire reason my parents enrolled me in dance in the first place,” she said with a shrug, eyes back on the screen as she figured things out. “I can't just sit still and have things told to me; it's so much better when I'm up and moving and participating. The world makes a hell of a lot more sense like that.”

“Nonetheless—”

“Just a few minutes.” She paused the game to give him, what she humbly called, the most subtle and most effective puppy-dog-look in the entirety of existence. “Just to try this a bit. I promise, just a little bit to unwind from my birthday dinner, and we'll go over as much history as you possibly can throw at me tonight. Sound good?”

From the moment she started using her look on him, he looked stunned; eyes wide, mouth open, slouched a little like he had gone weak in the knees, he continued to stare at her until he finally managed a nod. “Yeah, yeah, I think that's… that's good.” His voice almost sounded thick for a moment before he cleared his throat, grabbed his glass, and started for the kitchen for another drink.

Even the men next to her looked a little thrown. “That's… a hell of a good pout you've got,” Don managed. “Where the hell did you learn that?”

“I'm a master of performance,” she mumbled, struggling again with the task the game had given her; she turned to Fox for help, but balked. “Jesus, man; you look like you've seen a ghost. You alright? You look even paler, believe it or not.”

Dumbstruck, he shook his head.

“Wanna give me a hand here, then?”

That seemed to shake him into awareness; with a quick nod, he began directing her around the first level, pretending not to constantly steal glances while she pretended constantly not to notice.

“So what'd you think?” Don asked as she finished the first level and passed the control off to him. “Good game?”

“I like it!” Jamie took a moment to force herself off the couch and back to where Cole sat once more, watching their game almost distantly. “I think we might need to invest in an Xbox at my place. Once I get the hang of it, I bet I could spend _hours_ playing.”

Cole sighed, but smiled as he sat up and reached for his book. “As it is, _sadly_ , we don't quite have that time.” He patted the couch beside him, and she blushed as she stumbled over. “Are you ready to attempt a bit of studying now?”

“Of course.” But as soon as she sat, she stood again, taking notice of the empty glass she had in her hand. “Would it be alright if I went and made myself another drink really fast?”

“Yeah, of course!” Ellie held her hand out for the glass as Cole tried to hide a groan. “D'you want the same thing, and I can make it for you instead?”

Jamie shook her head and nodded to the kitchen. “This was fantastic, and if I'm going to be drinking a lot of these at home— and I totally intend to— I want to learn to do it right.”

“I'll come oversee if you'd like.” Don was already at her heels. “Make sure you're getting it; I'm going to make something for myself, too. Anyone want anything?”

The other three shook their heads, and he let Jamie lead the way into the kitchen, grabbing the bottles and setting them aside for her. She couldn't help but smirk as he tried to subtly place himself between her and the door, and subtle he was not.

“You think he’s cute, don’t you?” he asked, cutting right to the chase as they each began making their drinks. “Cole, I mean; not that Fox doesn't have… erm, some sort of charm, I guess, but you think Cole's cute.”

Jamie chuckled. “Wow, really, Soldier Boy? I would’ve pegged Fox as the gossip.”

“He is, most days. I thought I’d give it a try. And you didn’t deny it.”

“Denying it would be lying.”

“He’s single.”

“I picked up on that, actually.” She glanced into the living room and dropped her voice even lower, leaning in close before she spoke. “Is he looking for a bit of a fling, by any chance?”

Don’s eyes got amusingly wide. “Fling?”

“Yeah, y’know, a 'friends with benefits' kind of deal? I mean, once the semester ends and he’s not my TA and it can’t get him fired, of course.”

“No, but, wait. Like, you mean, just casual sex?”

She shrugged. “I don’t like relationships. The best thing I’ve had that you’d even remotely consider a relationship is Marco.”

“Who?”

“We were in the ballet together; he wasn't much older than me, and when we had some downtime after rehearsals...” In case it wasn't clear enough, she made a lewd gesture and winked.

His jaw dropped wide to match his eyes. “Your dance partner?!”

“Yup. And I’m not even sure you’d count that, he was just… eh, the _most frequent_ of the guys I was with.”

“Oh. _Ooh_. Uh, well, um, no actually, he’s, ah, kinda, y’know, more of a, um, _relationship_ guy.” His face was bright red as he screwed the cap on his bottle much more tightly than necessary, looking hard at the counter as he stuttered.

“Awe, damn.” Jamie paused and cocked her head as she thought. “I bet I could be a ‘relationship girl’ for a couple weeks. Maybe even longer, depending on how good he is in bed.”

Don’s face was the picture of horror.

“And now you think I’m a slut, right?”

“No!” he tried to cover quickly. “I- I didn’t think that you were… The Type.”

“Type, what Type? The Type that thinks sex is fun?”

He squeaked, mumbled some sort of apology, and backed out of the room. Jamie decided to take it as a sign that their conversation was over.

Ellie looked up as Jamie walked back into the room. “That must’ve been quite the conversation. Don looks like he swallowed his tongue.”

“Well, I do aim to leave everyone in my presence in stunned silence.” But she gave a smile and a reassuring shake of her head as she sat down again, in case the woman had intended to press further. “Hey, any chance there’s another gyro I could steal? Drinking always makes me hungry.”

It was another twenty minutes before she sat down again, munching on a plate of stuffed grape leaves and olives, and Cole pulled out his reading glasses and book again. “Do you think now it might be time to try this again? Now that everyone's had their fun?”

Jamie shook her head. “In a minute. I can't study while I eat. And we haven't even gotten to the banal small talk yet, that's the best part of any dinner party. C'mon, how d’you all know each other?” she asked through bites. “Did you all grow up together? All from Boston? Or just happened to meet in class?”

“Yup!” Fox nodded and popped open a beer. “We all met in undergrad. Just through happenstance, and we all decided on graduate studies in Boston— it would’ve been stupid not to room together. But Cole's the only one studying history.”

“So then you're…?”

“Medicine.”

“Impressive. And Don?”

He paused to take a bite of his food. “International Relations. For the military, actually.”

“So then 'Soldier Boy' is not just him mocking your hair cut?”

“Nope. Not like he has any room to talk about good hair choices.”

Fox rolled his eyes. “Dude, _you_ spend a couple years living with monks in the middle of nowhere, _then_ you can judge this.”

Jamie stared. “Wait, seriously?”

“Soldier Boy and the Buddhist living under the same roof; doesn't get more polar opposite than that.”

Unsure how she was supposed to respond, Jamie looked at Ellie, letting her raised eyebrows ask the question for her. Ellie chuckled.

“I'm studying biochemistry and neurology.”

“So basically I'm the dumbest person in the room right now.”

“You're not dumb.”

“I have a history grade that would beg to differ.”

“Speaking of—” Cole tried to cut in.

“You do incredible things with dancing that none of us could ever do, does that make us dumb?” She smiled. “There's different degrees of smart, you know. So what if you don't know military strategy or how the brain works? Plenty of smart people don't, either. Honestly?” She bit into a honey cookie. “I _wish_ I could dance the way you do. I've seen videos of you, god; it's like you were born to move.”

There was a bright pink flush on her cheeks that Jamie tried to hide by grabbing the nearest thing— her history book— and ducking into it.

“You're off by about a dozen pages.” She cursed mentally as she realized Cole had taken it to mean she was ready to get into studying and sighed, setting aside her plate and reluctantly turning to the right page. “Excellent, now, as I was saying about China...”


	16. Saturday Night and/or Sunday Morning

The chiming of a clock startled Jamie; for the first time in hours, she stopped and looked at the time, and immediately swore. “Aw, fuck a duck,” she grumbled, grudgingly setting her glass aside and standing with a stretch; her back and neck cracked loudly and she sighed.

Cole snorted into his drink. “I’m sorry, what was that?” He'd become considerably more mellow after their fruitless hour of flipping through the history books; once it became apparent that she simply had no idea what was going on, while he'd slipped away to refill his drink (and possibly to weep, if his frustration was any indication), Ellie had slipped her a copy of his own notes to use in her essay. On his return, it took very little prompting from them all to get him to give up the futile attempt at education and turn instead to a hilariously offensive game of Cards Against Humanity, which he'd proven to be a master at once he got over the embarrassment of playing the game with his student.

But all good things had to come to an end. “I’ve gotta get going; it’s already quarter after one. I’m pretty sure I can get a bus into the city in the next half hour.” Her books and papers were unceremoniously shoveled in the general direction of her bag, all but dumped into the open pouch.

“I’m not letting you get on a bus after midnight!” His friends echoed his protests; Don grabbed a set of keys from the dish on the counter and tossed them to Cole. “I’ll drive you.”

“I have mace! I’ll be fine, you don’t have to do that!” Although she’d already stopped packing, completely unwilling to see what sort of scum she would meet on a bus into town at such an hour.

“Perhaps not, but I will.”

Ellie stood slowly, yawning as she, too, stretched. “Well, if you guys are shoving off, then I’m turning in for the night.” With another yawn, she crossed the room and pulled Jamie into a tight hug without hesitation. “It was really, really good to meet you,” she said genuinely. “I’ll be very glad to see you around more. Be safe, alright?”

Jamie nodded and returned the hug, wondering just how many glasses of wine Ellie had had, just before Fox grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her up into a rib-crushing hug.

“Come back,” was all he said, muffled by her shoulder as she clung to him. Then he dropped her, winked, and disappeared down the hall and up the stairs, close behind Ellie.

As she finished shoving her things into her bag, Don lazily stood, sighing as he clapped Cole on the back. “You know where to find me if you need me,” he mumbled. “Give me a shout if you run into trouble.” And then he, too, hugged Jamie. “Sorry about before. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

She grinned. “I know you didn’t.”

“We’re good, then?”

“Of course we’re good.”

“Great. And it was my pleasure to meet you, I hope you know.” With that, and a nod to Cole, he went the way of the others, leaving Jamie alone with Cole.

They stared at each other, tired smiles on their faces, before Jamie finally broke out of the trance and started for the hallway, bag hanging loosely in her hand. “It really was a great night,” she said, a little hushed in case they had already fallen asleep upstairs. “Thanks for this. For the studying, and letting me hang out with you— I had fun. I haven’t had a fun night _in_ since… ever.” She smirked as he helped her into her coat, lifted her hair from the collar for her. “Thanks.”

“Of course. It was my pleasure, Jamie.”

She could have kissed him. It wouldn’t have been difficult, the way he was standing so close, looking at her as if he’d forgotten what they were supposed to be doing. But it was late and she was tired, and maybe trying too much too fast would ruin anything they'd been building towards; Sober Jamie would probably hate her for it almost as much as Morning Cole would, and any number of other factors told her it would be a bad idea. So instead, she sighed and turned her back to him and started for the door.

“Wait,” he said, catching her hand before she could get too far. “There’s something I want to show you.”

Jamie playfully rolled her eyes as she followed him back through the house, dropping her bag by the backdoor and buttoning up her coat as he led her outside onto the porch. “You’re going to have to explain to my roommates why I’m stumbling through the door at 3 am., you know.”

Either he didn’t hear her or he was ignoring her as she showed her to the far end of the porch; the light above the door didn’t reach quite that far, and he had to guide her around a few chairs before he let go of her hand. “Do you know anything about outer space?”

Jamie shrugged. “I do about as well in science as I do in history.”

Cole chuckled as he stopped beside a telescope and leaned over to adjust the lens. “It’s something of a hobby of mine.” He gestured vaguely in her direction, not looking up from the eyepiece. “There are blankets over there— you might want one or two, even with a coat it gets cold out here pretty fast.”

Curiosity peaked, Jamie grabbed an itchy brown plaid and wrapped it around her shoulders. It smelled warm, like old campfires. “So do tell. What’d you have me out here for?”

“It’s the full moon,” he mumbled, making one last adjustment in the focus before stepping out of the way and smiling. “I just bought this telescope. I thought perhaps you would like to be the first— aside from myself— to use her.”

Well, wasn’t he a romantic? Even if that wasn’t the intended signal. Unless it was. Jamie shook her head before her overtired brain could start over thinking it and stepped over to look. “Oh my god… I’ve never seen the moon like this before… I’ve never seen _anything_ like this before. This is incredible.”

Cole chuckled behind her. “I’m glad you think so.”

“No, I mean, this is really, truly breathtaking.” She looked up at the moon, then back through the telescope. “God, I feel like I could reach out and hold it.”

“So close and yet so far,” he said with a tone of agreement, almost a little sad. “Would you like to see Mars, too?”

She spun around with a look of amazement. “Really? Are you sure you can, with this little thing?”

“Hey, be nice to my new toy,” he scolded playfully. Jamie watched as he stepped in front of the eye piece and shifted the whole thing slightly until he found whatever little spike of light he was looking for. “As long as it’s in the sky, I can find it.” Another minute and he stepped aside for her to see.

“I can’t believe all the stars you can see out here,” she admitted, taking his place.

“We’re just far enough away from the worst of the light pollution to see some.”

“Still probably more than I’ve ever seen. I’ve always been in the heart of cities; can’t see much of anything there.”

Cole chuckled as she shuffled behind her; Jamie tried not to blush a little as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her upright, and took her hand with his other, pointing their joined hands to the sky. “Do you know any constellations?”

“I know I’m a Libra.”

“Good enough.” His huff of laughter was warm on her ear as he traced a shape in the sky with their pointed fingers. “You can’t see it here, but that’s where Libra would be. Slipping away— Scorpio takes its place soon. Libra is the scale that Justice held.”

She had no response other than to give a soft hum of acknowledgment.

For a bit longer he did the same thing, drawing the different patterns for her, naming them and telling her the story to go with each one.

“What’s that?” she finally asked, cutting him off after he drew another shape in the sky.

“Ophiuchus? He’s the serpent holder, son of Apollo. Apollo courted his mother—”

“Not that, I heard you when you were saying that.” She pointed back to one of the stars. “That. What did you call that?”

“A supernova.”

“That means nothing to me.”

“The death of a star.” Cole’s voice became soft, almost reverent. “A star that burns so hot and so big and so bright before it finally dies. It explodes and screams and collapses in on itself… and then it’s gone. A mass of dust and gas where a star once was. We still see a little light from them, very dim and very distant.”

Jamie was quiet for a moment. “That’s… that’s really sad. And I don’t know why.”

He hugged her to him a little tighter. “It’s not sad.”

“Oh really.”

“Not at all.” She could feel him smile as he leaned close to whisper in her ear. “For anything to begin, first a star must die. And from it, new stars come together, and collapse, and become more stars and planets and moons, and water and air and _life_. And against all odds, humanity comes from it, and billions of years have to pass, and here we stand.” A shiver ran down her neck as he kissed her gently just behind the ear; Jamie closed her eyes and let out a sigh. “It’s absolutely impossible. And here you are. Bones that are stronger than steel, more precious than diamonds. You’re made of infinity and shattered galaxies. Stars have died so that you can live.”

God, it was a beautiful thought. She wanted to say something more about it, but her eyes were suddenly so tired that she let them fall shut as she murmured a soft, slurred apology. Exhaustion hit her hard and suddenly; Jamie leaned back into his arms before she even knew what she was doing.

“I have you,” he promised in a whisper, holding her tight to him as he picked her up in a gentle cradle carry. “Go to sleep, Jamie. I have you now, you’re okay.”

Just before she finally gave in, the last sliver of awareness slipping away, she almost heard him say, voice no more than a hushed reverent breath, “ _You’re home_.”


	17. Changing

Jamie dreamed.

But for the first time ever, her dream _changed_.

Oh, she saw eternity, just as always. _She walked on stars, swirled the dust at her feet. Time was frozen in front of her, the entire universe was at her hands, waiting to be commanded._

_But for the first time in her life, she wasn’t alone._

_When she danced, it was with him. He followed her, never letting her out of reach. He held her and kissed her and moved the galaxies in a swirling rush of lights just for her. He was beautiful and perfect and absolutely impossible. Her heart ached for being near him._

_“Why?” she finally asked, so much loaded into a single word, questions she couldn't even fathom forming but still needed to ask._

_He gave no answer._

_“Why?”_

_She hadn’t seen him move, but he was further away, just out of reach. Jamie tried to pull him back—_

_“Why?!”_

_—and couldn’t move. Her wrists were behind her back, bound so tight it hurt. She was on her knees. Laughter filled her ears. Panic filled her voice. Fear filled her veins._

_“Why?!”_

_She was crying— when had she started crying? And still he stayed, just a little too far, watching, waiting._

_There was something in her hair, a hand that twisted and pulled her head back hard. She felt the sharp, cold edge of a blade pulled across her throat, the warm rush of blood down her neck as bit by bit, nerve by nerve, she felt her body being pulled away—_

_He finally moved, tried to grab her even though she was just beyond his reach, and screamed. It was a horrible, heart-wrenching sound that was nearly as painful as the knife._

_She fell into the stardust, wide-eyed and terrified, the last whisper of “Why?” dying on her lips along with her._


	18. The Morning After

Jamie woke with a start. She blinked, her vision blurry with sleep, as she tried to adjust to the bright white that surrounded her. She was… in a bed. A big, soft bed with huge fluffy pillows and a white blanket that was twisted around her body a hundred ways from tossing and turning. Her dress was shifted halfway around her body, the skirt up to her hips, and her shoes were still on. First and foremost, she lost the shoes, and then began sorting herself out of the cocoon of covers.

The sun shone through wide open windows, high in the sky, making the pristine white room ten times brighter than it already was. Jamie found a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt at the foot of the bed— clean, folded, and at least two sizes too big in the boobs. Probably Ellie’s offering as an alternative to the tight, formal dress, but she found it wasn’t one she was too eager to accept. Instead, she picked up her fancy shoes in one hand, flattened her hair as much as she could into something presentable, and cautiously opened the door.

The room she was in was at the end of a hallway. The hardwood floor was cold as she tiptoed across it, trying not to wake anyone behind the other doors. Down the stairs at the end of the hall, and down another hallway, Jamie found herself standing in the kitchen. Ellie’s smiling face greeted her, flipping waffles.

“Morning!” she chirped, voice as bright as the pink owl-print flannel PJs she wore. “I left you some sweats, if you wanted to get out of that dress. Not to say it’s not beautiful, but you’d be heartbroken if you got syrup on it.”

Jamie only stared in confusion for a moment before snapping out of it. “No, no, that’s alright, I saw them, thanks, I just… erm, I’m not really cool with borrowing clothes. Kind of… squicky to me.”

“I totally get that, no worries.”

“Bacon?”

She jumped and let out an undignified yelp as Fox was suddenly behind her. “Good god! What the hell?!”

He gave a confused look and held up a package of bacon. “Do you want fried and salted pork to go with your waffles?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah! Yes, sorry! I’m just- I guess I’m a little bit jumpy today.”

“I mean, I can’t blame you, it's always weird waking up in a new place.” He shrugged and grabbed another pan to start cooking bacon in. “Make yourself comfortable! Don ran out to get coffee, he’ll be back soon. Cole!” he added in a yell over his shoulder. “You up yet?! Jamie’s awake!”

There was a bit of a crash from the living room before Cole came stumbling in, already dressed and smoothing down his hair with a bright smile on his face.

“Oh, god, you’re one of those fucking morning people, aren’t you?” Jamie groaned

His smile fell.

“I’m teasing you.” Mostly.

“Oh.” The smile was a little tense, but it returned as he walked into the kitchen, grabbed a stack of plates, and handed one to her. “It’s sort of a buffet. Take as much as you want as it’s done. If you want something special, you make it yourself.”

The table was already set with silverware, syrup, and a butter bell that Cole handed to her. They all stood in silence for a few minutes as they prepared their plates— Fox dropped a few pieces of bacon on hers as they were ready— until Don finally burst through the door.

“Weekend tourists!” he yelled from the front hall, his shoes making loud ‘clunks’ as he kicked them off into the wall. “Took me twenty minutes to get five cups of coffee! Fox, your freaking fancy whatever-the-hell-it-is took half that time!” He was rolling his eyes as he came into the dining room, checking the sides of the large cups before passing one of them to Cole. “I hope you don’t mind, Jamie; I just got you the largest black coffee they had with room for milk. We’ve got sugar and different creamers in the fridge.”

“Sugar and milk would be perfect,” she assured him, setting the cup on the table. “Thank you so much, Don.”

He pulled out the sugar bowl and several different bottles of creamer in addition to the milk. “Just in case,” he chuckled as he set them in the middle of the table.

“Thanks.” She mixed her coffee and took a long sip as Cole sat at the head of the table beside her. “It’s good.”

“Good.” Don disappeared somewhere into the kitchen.

“And you, Your Majesty?” she teased, turning to Cole. “Don buys the coffee, Ellie makes waffles, Fox gets the bacon, and they all wait on you like a king?” With a sigh, she sat down. “What exactly do you do, then?”

He smiled cheekily. “I pay for it.”

“Oh. Well. That is a good reason.” Her face was red. “Just, uh, let me know what I owe you. Or what I can do. 'Specially since you were nice enough to let me crash here last night.”

“You don't owe us a thing.” There was something affectionate in the way he rested a hand on her shoulder as he stood to fix his own coffee. “We're extremely happy to have you here, Jamie, I promise you.”

“Did you sleep well?” Don asked as he took the seat next to her.

“Better than I do at my place. Which isn't difficult, if you'd see the shitty little mattress that I have.”

Fox took the chair across from her. “Good to hear. Nothing woke you?”

“Nope, why?”

“No… no reason.”

It was a few minutes before Jamie realized they were all watching her, and rather intensely at that. She froze, mouth open and a forkful of waffle hovering over her plate. “What? What are you—? Is there a bug on me? Is it a spider? Kill it. Right now. Squish it. Take a newspaper and whack it. I don’t even care if you hit me. Kill it and I won’t be mad.”

At least they took a moment to look at each other instead of just her. Fox was the first to find his voice. “We’re waiting for you to say something.”

“Oh.” She relaxed a bit. “Um, it’s great. Uh, the food is… excellent?”

Don furrowed his brow. “Well, thanks, but that’s not what he means.”

“What?”

“Last night. We thought you’d have something to say about it.”

Her smile was a little uncertain, but Jamie shrugged. “It was a nice night. Thanks. And I’m sorry for crashing, I really didn’t mean to, thanks for not just dumping me on the couch. And, um, the drinks were good. And the telescope—” she gave an almost coy smile to Cole “—was just breathtaking.”

Fox gave her a look. “No! Last night! Your dream! Aren’t you going to say anything about your dream?”

She felt the blood rush from her face; her fork clattered to the plate. “What?”

“So you do remember it.”

Jamie couldn’t form words for a moment until she finally swallowed hard, and even then had to force her voice to speak over the lump in her throat. “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” Ellie said, gentle if not a little tired. “Since you were born, you’ve had the same dream every time you closed your eyes. But it was more than just a reoccurring dream, right?”

“I’ve never—”

“Never told anyone that, of course not. You’d just sound insane. And last night, for the first time ever, it changed.”

Her hands were starting to shake. “No. N-no, it—”

“Yes, it did. And last night, you felt yourself die.”

“You don’t know that. You can’t know that. Why would you know that, _how_ do you know—?!”

Cole grabbed her hand and pulled her gently to her seat; without even realizing it, she’d stood. Her knees were shaking, and she’d knocked over her coffee, but no one seemed concerned with cleaning it up. “Because we know you,” he said calmly.

Whatever she expected to hear, it wasn’t that. Jamie couldn’t say anything in shock.

“And last night,” he continued slowly, “you remembered.”

“R-remembered? What do you mean, ‘remembered’?”

“You’ve started to remember your last life, beginning with the very last moment.”

“You were there.” Her voice began as a raspy whisper and slowly grew louder as she realized she remembered it more clearly than she would have liked. “You were there, you were in my dream. I saw you and I died!”

“You were killed,” Don corrected.

“Yes!” She froze. “No! No, no, no! I don't—! This isn't—! Oh, god, oh, fuck, I don't know what's wrong with you, getting in my fucking dreams, but I'm going home!” Jamie jumped up and started for the door, but Don was quick to stand in her way, and Fox swiftly followed behind her.

“Jamie, listen, you have to give us a chance to explain—”

“What could you possibly have to explain to me?! What, did you drug me last night? Did you slip something in my drink? Is that what’s happening?!”

“Jamie, please—”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!”

“You’re in danger.” Ellie was the calmest voice of them all as she stood slowly and walked careful, even steps to take Jamie by her shoulders. “And we are going to save you.”

Her heart raced. “Danger?”

“The one who killed you is still alive. And from what we can understand, she’s been waiting for you.”

“Still alive? _Waiting?_ ”

Ellie nodded.

“How is that even possible?”

Cole cleared his throat; he was the only one still at the table, watching her with careful eyes. “She’s still alive… because she’s a goddess.”

The tension filling Jamie slowly melted away into some bizarre combination of fury, confusion, and amusement. “A goddess. You’re telling me a goddess is out to kill me.”

“A mad goddess,” he corrected. “Her mind broke years ago and now she seems to believe that killing you is what she needs to do to give herself greater powers.”

“Really.”

“Yes.”

“You really expect me to believe that.”

“Of course.”

“And why would a crazy woman I’ve never met think that killing me would give her power?”

He paused to gauge her reaction. “Because you are like her. You’re like me, too. You’re a goddess, reborn and given human form.”

She stopped.

She stared.

She laughed.

“Let me get this straight,” she said to the startled group. “You’re a god. Claiming that _I_ am a goddess. And that _another_ god is going to try and kill me to take my power. And these three?” She waved at his companions. “What, are they _also_ gods?”

“We’re not gods,” Don said quickly. “But we serve him, like, Guardians, of sorts, and in exchange—”

“Brilliant. You’re all out of your fucking minds.” She turned on her heel and shoved past Don to the hallway to grab her coat. “I’m leaving. Thanks for breakfast, please do me the favor of never speaking to me ever again.”

“Jamie—” Cole was right on her heels; whatever confident demeanor he’d had, he must have left it at the table, because he was back to the same nervous man she’d known him to be.

“No, seriously. You think you’re a god. You think _I'm_ a _goddess._ You have got to be kidding me. That’s the single most common delusion anyone suffers from. You’re out of your mind.”

“Please, just wait!” He reached out and grabbed her shoulder; she froze. “Stay! There's so much more you have to hear, you need to stay! I've waited so long for you to come back, you can't just leave now! Just stop and let us explain everything—!”

“Get away from me.” She didn’t yell, and that was the most terrifying part. Her voice was only a growl as she shoved him back, grabbing his hand and bending the fingers back as roughly as she could. “Don’t _touch_ me. You are never going to lay a _hand_ on me for the rest of your life. You and your creepy-ass friends, _all_ of you, don’t come _near_ me ever again. I don’t want anything to do with you, understand? Never again, I _never_ want to see you again, not for the rest of my life. Leave me _alone_!”

He looked more hurt than she ever would have thought he would. Even still, he dared a step closer, looking for all the world as if he just wanted one more touch. “Jamie please, just hold on for one more minute—”

“ _No!_ ” She shoved him away roughly, threw the door open, and ran out.

The last time she ever meant to see him, Jamie threw a glare back to be sure he wouldn’t follow her; Cole stood in the doorway, holding to the frame, looking as if it took all his strength to stand there and watch her go.


	19. Denial

When the apartment door slammed closed an hour later, rattling the entire front wall— and probably the rest of them— Alison was the only one to look up from the controller in her hands.

“There she is!” She reached over and slapped Vince’s shoulders. “There, see, what’d I tell you?!”

Vince spared half a glance at Jamie taking off her coat. “You were the one freaking out. _I_ told her that you were fine!” He swore as Donkey Kong fell off of a massive ledge and sighed. “So, how was he? Everything you thought he would be? Or were his god-given good looks just compensating for something?”

Jamie let out a frustrated growl of sounds and kicked both of her shoes off; they hit the wall with two hollow ‘thuds’.

Her roommates shared a look. “That is not the face of a girl who just got laid,” Alison sighed.

“He’s a freak and his friends are freaks, and they’re all nut jobs, and fuck them all!” She yelled wordlessly again and marched off to her bedroom, already tearing off her dress.

“Wait, what?” Vince paused the game and tossed his controller aside, jumped up, and went to her doorway. “Jamie, what the hell happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Jamie—”

“Fuck off!”

There was a moment of silence while Alison scrambled from the couch to the doorway. “Sweetheart?”

“Seriously, just leave me alone.”

“What did he do?”

“Nothing!”

Alison was firm but gentle as she crossed the room and took her friend by the shoulders. “Jamie, sit down and take a breath; you’re acting crazy. You stayed there over night, and now you’re freaking out. Do we need to call the cops?”

She let out a long, tense breath. “No,” she finally said, almost calmly.

“Should we take you to an emergency care for one reason or another?”

“No.”

“Will you tell us what happened last night?”

Voice tense, jaw clenched, Jamie closed her eyes. “I went to his house. We had a few drinks with his roommates. We played some video games. He offered to drive me home. He took me onto the porch to see his telescope. I passed out.”

“And?”

“And nothing!” she growled. “Absolutely nothing! I woke up and we had breakfast, and… and I left!”

Jamie let out a sigh and looked at herself in the mirror. Nothing: that was the absolute truth, wasn’t it? Alison and Vince would never believe her if she told them what had happened over breakfast… she hardly believed it herself. She pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a sweater and reemerged to the living room, a grudgingly guilty look on her face.

“Nothing,” she repeated. “I had too much to drink and passed out. Nothing happened. No one did anything, and I’m just being a bitter bitch about the whole thing.”

Alison grinned a little. “Well, that certainly sounds like the Jamie we all know and love. Good on you for at least owning up to it this time.”

“Love you, too.”

“Promise you’ll talk to us if you need it?”

“Probably not, but okay.”

Vince gave her a little smile and hugged her by the waist, threw her over his shoulder, and dumped her on the couch with an affectionate kiss to the temple.“So,” he sighed as he took his controller again, “I guess this means you won’t be seeing him again?”

Jamie grumbled and curled up in her blankets. “No. I am never, _ever_ going to see him again.”


	20. Misery

Jamie tried to ignore the whole thing. As far as she was concerned, the hours she’d spent in Cole’s house had never happened, and her time was better spent drowning herself in homework and dancing, surrounding herself with people and things to do, filling every moment of every day with every distraction she could manage.

It was almost enough.

If only she hadn’t dreamed.

Jamie never thought she’d long for the familiar dream that had followed her for her entire life, playing out behind her eyes every time she fell asleep, but no matter how unsettling the repeat of that dream had been it had always been simple and calming and maybe even reassuring. Not these dreams; never the new dreams.

_They were so new, these incredible little creatures that had begun to cover the planet. She had taken their form— they all had— and walked among them, with them, became engrained in their lives and societies. They were family, even as the humans used ocher to color the walls of caves in honor of them, a commodity so precious they had to cross the Earth for and yet were so pleased to offer-_

She woke with sweat dripping down her face, her throat dry and her entire body shaking. There was no way the dreams could be real, there was no possible way for her to see any of the things she was seeing, but they made her heart race and her head ache in a way that she couldn't explain.

In the daylight, she could put on her smile and deny.

In the dark, somehow, she knew it was the truth.


	21. Monday Ballet

Monday morning, devouring a Tupperware container of blackberries, Jamie found herself completely startled by Steph throwing herself down at her feet with a horrible sort of screeching, groaning sound. “What the fuck?”

“I'm _tired_ ,” her friend whined, uncrossing Jamie's ankles and arranging her legs to act as her pillow. “Christ, I got absolutely no sleep this weekend. Seven hours, tops.”

What she wouldn't have given for seven peaceful hours. “I know the feeling.”

“And I'm looking for a Halloween costume, and the only things I'm coming up with online are _so_ fucking expensive.”

“Shit, I totally forgot all about it. Did anyone pick a theme?”

“Yeah.” She scrunched up her face in disgust. “Movies. Go as your favorite movie character or in the closest knock-off costume you can find. Seriously, though, wouldn't Irrelevant 2 been so much better?”

“You already picked out a costume, didn't you?”

“Old white republican man from the south, and it was going to kick ass!” She rolled her eyes as she rolled over. “Can I raid your closet?”

Jamie matched her eye roll. “If I let you do that, then I have to let everyone else in the dance department have a shot, hearts are going to be broken, friendships are going to be ruined, and there'll basically be no way that I'll win the Best Costume bottle.”

“So that's a no?”

“That's a very loud no.” So maybe she played favorites sometimes… she was only human. It wasn't a sin to loan out clothes only to the friends who would return them all in one piece.

But Steph seemed to accept it and move on. “Sooo?” Her voice turned sing-song. “How was the studying?”

Color flooded her face and she shrugged.

“And how was the sex?”

Her blush deepened and her gaze turned into a glare.

Steph leaned back. “Oh. That good, huh?”

“Non-existent.”

“Bummer. When d'you wanna try again?”

“Never. I'm over him and moving on.”

“Aw, he turned you down, didn't he?”

“Look, can we just drop it?” Jamie jumped up, grabbed her shoes, and stalked into the middle of the floor. Steph, never deterred, followed.

But for once, it wasn't to poke and prod or bother; instead, she leaned her head on Jamie's shoulder and smiled at their reflections in the mirrors. “I still think you're pretty,” she said. “Screw the blind bastard, he doesn't know what he's missing.” And when Jamie finally smiled again, she gave her a hug. “We can go out this weekend and get you any guy you like. Or two. Or three. I think that'd make it better.”

“I don't think it's anything to do with not being pretty enough. Whatever, I'll just make myself even hotter and get those two or three or four other guys.”

“Ooh, are we up to four now?”

“In one night, if I play my cards right.”

“To the barres, please!” No one needed telling twice as the booming voice of Mr. Kennedy echoed from the doorway, making every dancer snap to attention and scuttle to their preferred places at the barres. A nod was all it took to make Tony start the music, and no direction was needed as they launched into their usual warm ups.

Mr. Kennedy watched them with a sharp eye, seated at the front of the room; Jamie was just able to notice, in the moments she turned or dared to steal a glance, that he was dressed for dancing himself today, and was trading his street shoes for ballet shoes— he caught her eye, and she snapped back to position, face burning red the entire fifteen minutes that remained in their stretches.

All at the same time, they came to the end, feet coming together, and the entire class turned to look at their teacher as he slowly stood. Looking them over for a surprisingly nerve-wracking moment, he finally nodded. “Five minutes,” Mr. Kennedy announced, giving them an unexpected and rare chance to get in a quick water break— a dead giveaway that they were going to have a rough remainder of class. “Miss Anderson,” he added before she'd even taken half a step, “may I speak with you?

Fucking hell, she thought, gritting her teeth; 'cause things had ended so well the last time a teacher had said that to her. But still she did, and nodded as he gave her a series of directions set to the music that Tony had begun lightly churning out. He gave her three minutes of instructions, let her repeat them back, two minutes to think them through as she grabbed a rehearsal tutu from a closet in the back of the studio, and finally called her to the front of the class as their break ended.

“Last week,” he said to the assembled students, standing just in front of her, “I said we will be performing _La Bayedere_ in the Winter Concert. Today, we begin our choreography. We'll be doing the Act II pas de deux between Solor and Nikiya after her death; ladies, you will all be dancing Nikiya's part, and men, you will all be dancing Solar's part. Everyone, all at once, on stage, much like a corps de ballet, but I want each of you to approach this as if it were your own grande pas de deux. It will require careful practice and much work on your parts to do this; it must be as beautiful as if you and your partner were the only once on stage, yet so perfect that every one of you is in unison and so exact that there is no possibility of interfering with each other.” Smiling, he held out his hand for Jamie. “Miss Anderson has kindly agreed to help me demonstrate the piece. Please give us your full attention, as we'll be going straight into this. Tony?”

The pianist nodded as Jamie took her place on the floor with her professor, a good bit more nervous than usual. He gave her directions as they danced, the tempo already cut, and her errors were more numerous and glaringly obvious than usual. Sure, it wouldn't have been perfect on a normal day, but she knew she was shaky and her feet wouldn't seem to do exactly what she wanted. No matter how encouraging Mr. Kennedy was, and what direction he gave, she couldn't help but feel like it was all fairly complete shit, especially when she slipped in the middle of a lift.

“There you have it,” Mr. Kennedy finally said as they finished and took a polite bow— unsteady, as her terrible spot had left her a bit dizzy. “And as you can see, no easy task; even our resident expert is having a bit of a hard time with it.” He was helping her cover, and she gratefully smiled, even though she knew there were some who didn't believe him. Thinking about it made her blush. “Which will not be taken as an excuse! Now, as I call your names, you and your partner will take your place were I direct. Jamie, will you and Mr. Mendenhall please begin here?”

Hunter joined her in front of the mirrors, looking a little concerned as they watched the rest of their class being given positions. “You alright?” he asked softly.

Not even a little bit, but she forced a smile. “Just peachy.”


	22. Planting

_“They've taught themselves.” There was wonder in her voice as she knelt at a bush and pulled away a handful of chickpeas. “All on their own, they've learned to make their own lands— it's astounding.” And yet, when she looked up at him, he only seemed amused at her amazement. “What?” He beamed. “No. No, how could you possibly have expected this?”_

_He held out a hand to help her stand and brushed the dirt from her robes. “I have faith,” he said simply. “I always have, and I always will, have faith that these brilliant little souls will find some beautiful, clever way to survive. That's the most wonderful part of them; they want to know more, always more. They want to have it all.”_

“ _Will they ever?”_

“ _Perhaps. And won't it be extraordinary to watch them as they do?”_


	23. On Edge

“Guys?”

There was no answer, even as she closed the apartment door a little too hard.

“Alison? Vince?”

All she could hear was the hum of the fan in the living room.

“Guys, this isn't funny.”

But still the apartment was completely silent.

It wasn't right; she was even later than usual, it was near 8 in the evening, and there had never been a time her roommates had been out late without her knowing. There was no note, no sign of anything that they might have left to tell her where they were… Jamie's heart stopped as she saw small flecks of red splattered on the floor and the white kitchen wall.

Without a second thought, she grabbed the nearest thing to her and started into the apartment, holding the empty bottle of wine like a weapon as she tiptoed into the living room. Everything was dark. Alison's laptop sat on the coffee table; a jiggle of the mouse showed it to be asleep and paused in the middle of a YouTube video, which she had never been known to do as long as Jamie had known the girl.

“Guys?” she whispered into the apartment; it was so quiet, it sounded as loud as a scream. Cautiously, she opened Alison's door— no one there. She tried again with Vince's— still no one. Even the bathroom was empty, and showed no sign that anyone had been there even remotely recently.

A big-rig on the street startled her, making her jump and curse loudly. As a last chance, Jamie checked her own room, even daring to nudge open the closet door, and couldn't decide if she was relieved or even more terrified that she couldn't find anything.

“This isn't funny!”

There was a rattle of response. Without thinking, Jamie ducked behind a wall, held her wine bottle over her shoulder, and readied herself to hit whomever it might be.

“Jamie?”

“AH!” Her aborted swing sent the wine bottle flying across the floor, shattering into several large pieces at Vince's feet. “Vince! What the fuck— Holy shit! What the fuck is wrong with your face?!”

Her roommate's startled face was black and blue on his left side, with the eyebrow stitched up and bloody and the eye working up to swollen. All he could do, though, was stare at the glass on the floor, awkwardly holding up a bag of ice and a soaked paper towel.

Alison appeared over his shoulder, looking equally confused and horrified. “Jamie, what the hell?”

“I thought you were breaking in and coming to kill me! You guys weren't home and I thought something bad must've happened and maybe you were dead and the killers were coming to get me next!”

“So you were going to attack them with a wine bottle?!”

“I was improvising! Shit, grab me the dustpan.”

Vince only looked on until it was cleaned up, seemingly scared into silence.

“Sorry 'bout that,” Jamie said with an apologetic smile once it was cleaned up.

“I just saw my life flash before my eyes for the second time today.”

Alison nodded and pushed his shoulder lightly. “Speaking of, you're supposed to be sitting down and chilling out. Got your pain pills?”

He nodded and shuffled to the couch. “I got hit in the face with a ball pretty hard.”

“Vince! You idiot, you were supposed to be at basketball practice today, not whoring yourself off on whatever corner you have claim to!”

It made him laugh, but it was followed quickly by a wince.

“Sorry.”

“It's all good. I needed that, actually. Laughter is the best medicine, right?”

“And dinner,” Alison added, bringing in containers from the fridge. “Not allowed to take those painkillers the ER gave you until you have something in your stomach.”

Jamie oohed and started to look through the containers, only to have her hand slapped away. “Hey!”

“If you want to be spoiled, you're gonna have to go to the ER yourself.”

At that point, it really didn't sound too bad. She sighed, curled up, and laid her head on Vince's lap. It took ten minutes before she was asleep.


	24. Library

“ _They're so clever, aren't they?” He had a smile on his face as he slowly paced the aisles, hands clasped behind his back. He regarded the books with something of a reverence, as if they were as divine as he was; it made her smile to watch him. “This may be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen them create.”_

“ _It's something remarkable.” From where she sat, the library stretched out before her, seemingly endless. It was startlingly silent, and she swore she could hear a man breathing all the way across the building. “Do you think it could last?”_

_His startled look was something innocent and adorable, and should have looked out of place on his ancient face, but seemed exactly right at the same time. “Of course I do! Love, look at everything in front of you; tell me, how could it not?”_

“ _Because as much as they are clever, they are destructive. As much as they create, they obliterate. Where one of them sees beauty, another sees a threat.” She stood, a small, sad smile on her face as she walked to his side and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You always see the best of them, even those that don't deserve it,” she sighed as he turned and kissed the back of her hand._

“ _I know they have the capacity for good in them; how retched would I be if I didn't believe_ in them enough to give them a chance?” He gestured, beaming, at the library before them. “We gave them a chance. Look what they made: Alexandria, the greatest, most legendary metropolis all the world over. I love them, really, and I truly know that this will last forever, though all of history.”

_Her heart was nearly bursting with pride as she looked at him. “You're right, of course,” she agreed, pulling his arm around her as she smiled. “Come, we've more to see and too few hours before the sun sets.”_


	25. Wednesday Class

Wednesday felt like it was never going to end.

It _dragged_ , from morning to night, the knowledge of what was coming completely slowing down every single second. The clock had to have stopped for how long the day took. Laying on the couch and staring at a ticking time bomb would have been less stressful, until she finally had to force herself to get up and go to her damned, damned night class.

Forgoing the usual routine of dressing up and spending a painstakingly only time on her make up, Jamie wore leggings and a too-big sweater and flats that were nearly silent, making her feel as inconspicuous as physically possible as she stomped down the sidewalk, hood up and eyes down.

It may have been having the opposite effect, based on how many people who asked if she was sick— or worse, how she'd gotten double black eyes, forcing her to explain that that was, sadly, just her face, and the dark circles just meant she needed more sleep.

By the time she shuffled into the lecture hall, almost every seat had been taken' of course, her usual chair near the front was wide open. Head down, ignoring the stares, she took her place, opened her notebook, and stared at the page blankly.

His footsteps were as loud as a shot to her; Jamie held her breath from the moment Cole walked in the door until he stood at the podium, not even looking away from the single line on her paper when he hesitated near her. She didn't look up when he called for homework that she hadn't done, nor when he mentioned the topic of the day, and not when he began lecturing.

In fact, she sank lower and lower in her chair, laid her head on the table, and closely studied her own hand as she doodled aimlessly— easier to focus on the smooth loops of the pen, the easy flow of the ink, or the chips in her nail polish, or the drum of someone tapping their foot nearby over the easy, soothing, even sound of his voice.

She was so tired from hating him. Rage took a lot out of a person when it was so all-consuming; it was surprising to realize, when she thought about it, she'd been spending every moment, waking and sleeping, utterly disgusted by and despising him.

And maybe, just a bit, fearing him; just as he'd said, she'd had the dreams, or memories, or whatever the hell they were supposed to be. He couldn't be right, she refused to let that be a possibility. If it was real… all of existence was turned on its head. Everything anyone ever knew was a lie, and she...

_There was something especially terrible about watching people be killed in her name, something horrific in the fact that they did it for honor and died with pride no matter how fearful they were. They watched their own deaths, knew they were coming, could anticipate the second the killing blow would begin spilling their blood— and never quick, never kindly, always in the most horrible and drawn out rituals that left them suffering as they slowly faded._ _But she held the knife in her hand, prepared it carefully, dragged the blade slowly along her palm and watched as the splitting skin gave way to blood and turned the steel cold as ice and as dense and as strong as any weapon that had ever been—_

“Jamie?”

She jumped and gasped, looking around, ready to strike with a dagger that wasn't really there… and Cole stood beside her, looking nervous and uncertain. She looked up at him with scared and tired eyes, dark circles and pale skin, note quite able to function.

“Are you—?”

“I have to go.” In one motion, she grabbed her bag and coat and books and pushed past him, not even stopping when she heard her pens clatter to the floor or him calling after her in frustration.

Ignorance, she thought; she could still be ignorant, and pretend it was still bliss.

As long as she was awake.


	26. Machu Picchu

_“_ _I hate this place,” she hissed, struggling more and more with every step that carried her further up the mountain. “I hate it. I hate this place so much, I can't tell you how much I hate this!”_

_The girl by her side threw her head back and laughed, the bells in her hair as bright as her airy voice. “Don't let them hear you say that!” she teased playfully,_ _winking a milky eye_ _. “They've never done anything but love you!”_

_“It's easy for you to say! They're_ your _people,_ mad people _, living on the edge of the earth and up in midair!” She let out a small yelp as she slipped. “Water belongs on the ground, in the oceans and seas, not in the mountains!”_

_“What about rain?”_

_She glared. “The rivers run down. There's a reason they have so many mudslides_ _here!”_

_Her sisters only laughed at her misery. “We could have been in Cusco instead,” the girl in green said pleasantly, not even a bit bothered by the journey. “Or you could have gone to the volcano with—”_

_“It's like you_ want _me to wash the entire city to ruins down the mountain.”_

_They stopped their teasing, but nothing would wipe away their smile— in fact, every rush of dirt and stones down the cliff face that made her curse only seemed to amuse them even further._

_The Incans knew the starlight eyes to belong to Mama Killa as soon as the goddesses crested the hill and set foot on city ground— which she dramatically fell to her knees to kiss— and quickly began gathering around them. Pachamama laughed and pulled her along into the fray, letting Mama Killa be overtaken by women and children who wanted the blessing of their city's goddess, even somehow getting her a fox that curled up cooing in her arms._

_“Lighten up,” her sister giggled, grabbing two offered loaves of bread and forcing one into her hands. “At this rate, they'll go from calling you Yakumama to Ayar Cachi in no time flat. This is a beautiful place, no need to go making them think you're a hell spawn.”_

_“Hey!”_

_“You just threatened to landslide all of Machu Picchu down the mountain and into the river; don't go saying things you won't want to own up to.”_

_There wasn't much of an argument to make back to that. Instead, she took a bit of her loaf of bread. “Are there bugs in this?”_

_“Do I complaining when your people give us raw fish?”_

_She pouted as they found the temple and sat at the doorway, eating their buggy bread and watching the people adore their patron goddess. It was cool and breezy, and finally off her feet, the sunlight was welcoming and warm. And even if there was a heaviness, a loneliness while surrounded by a thousand people that she couldn't explain, there was a peacefulness to the chaos. It was good._


	27. Modern

“Come on, ladies!” Mr. Pearson yelled from his chair at the front of the studio. “Do it right once and you can be done for the day!”

There were grumbles as they took their places, all of them well aware it was nothing but a lie to get them motivated. Jamie rolled her eyes and leaned on Sadie’s shoulder so she could adjust her shoe. “We’re never getting out of here,” she grumbled, tucking the laces back into her combat boot.

“You might.” Sadie sighed and leaned her head on Jamie’s hand, shaking out her feet. “Keep zoning out like you have been and you’re gonna break your ankle.”

“Not my fault.” The music started, and they slipped into their preparations. “It’s these boots.”

“Uh-huh.”

She rolled her eyes as they launched into the dance, trying to pretending Sadie wasn’t right. Of course, a couple of stumbles could be blamed on the unconventional shoes, but she knew her mind was miles away, and all she could do was watch her fellow dancers in the corner of her eye to make sure she wasn’t screwing up too badly.

_But there she was, dancing, smiling, laughing as she spun around a fire. He watched from afar, an adoring smile on his face. The holy women danced with her, practiced pounds of their feet against the hard, dry dirt. Tribes-people watched, faces illuminated by the flickers of the roaring flames, in hushed reverence, until a crack of thunder rolled and lightning split the sky—_

She stumbled, ignoring the look from Mr. Pearson, and tried to focus as the teacher clapped the tempo and shouted instructions. “More height in those jumps! Land low, kick, kick, shoulder rolls- keep those legs straight! Balance those spins- doubles, please, I know you're all capable of that!”

It sounded like gibberish, but it got them to the end of the song, frozen in place.

“Alright! Good enough!” The girls were quick to swarm off of the dance floor, even as he spoke. “Don’t forget to stop by my office and pick up the jackets for costumes, and remember to bring them for class; they’re going to change how you move your arms!”

Jamie rolled her eyes and kicked her boots at the wall as she started to change. “I’m so over modern.”

“I think we’ve found the one thing you’re not good at!” Sadie teased.

Jamie only scowled.

“I’m kidding! Are you alright? You’ve been off for, like a week.”

“It’s just—”

“Don’t go blaming the boots.”

With a sigh, she shrugged. “No worries. I’m just tired.”


	28. Amaterasu

_A body threw itself across her stomach, and all the wind was knocked out of her before she could toss the blanket back and struggle to catch a breath. White eyes met hers, rolling dramatically._

_“Your sister is an unreasonable_ hag _!” Inari announced, just before she was shoved from her sister's bed. “I'll end her! She can't seem to stop being a mad, senseless_ witch _, and we would all be better for giving her a good swift whipping!”_

_She groaned, rubbing her stomach where an elbow had landed. “She's your sister, too!”_

_Across the room, Otohime barked a laugh, pausing as she braided her hair to look at them both. “Not at this rate. She's sent away every single Guardian who's gone to her, every person, and every animal. They're starting to think the sun with stop rising, since Amaterasu refuses to leave her bed and take it to the sky.”_

_“Then why does that mean_ I _have to be woken so violently from_ my _bed?”_

_“Oh, you know their stories.” With a dismissive wave of her hand, Otohime went back to her mirror and resumed fixing her hair. “It's all too perfect. Amaterasu has lost her love, and mourns so deeply that it might just end the world; and we have gone to rouse her, but she won't listen to us.”_

_This groan came from far deeper in her chest. “No, please don't say it. I know what's coming next...”_

_“Only Uzume will be the one to bring her back.”_

_Of course, of course, that was the only possibility. She sighed heavily, finally rolling out of bed to search for a robe and a brush, lazily mentally preparing herself to face whatever was waiting for her in her sister's room. It could go either way, really: small, quiet mourning, a silently sad misery that burned soft and hot like embers; or it could be a big, bright rage, anger and fury like popping sparks or roaring flames._

_Which one would be worse, she wasn't sure; neither seemed like something she was eager to deal with._

_The door slid open and she slipped out slowly; it was understandable why the people would be frightened, now that the wind whipped at her and the rain and hail pelted the awnings. The wood porches and walkways were slick, the dark clouds made it seem like night, and worst of all, it was so_ cold _, even under heavy embroidered layers of robes and coats. Water froze too easily— and she hated every second of the cold, as if she could feel_ herself _freezing._

_Without knocking, she threw open the door the second she reached her sister's rooms, slamming it closed before any of the cold could creep in with her._

_“Get out.” Amaterasu's voice came from under a pile of blankets and pillows; even once her eyes adjusted, her sister was indistinguishable from any other lumps of bedding in the room. “I've told you to leave me alone. Get out!”_

_“You've told everyone_ except _me,” she said with a soft smile in her voice. Dropping the wet coat, she kicked off her shoes and crawled into the clash of covers until her hand found a particularly hard lump that made a sound when she shook it. “So? Shall I get out? Leave you to your lonesome?”_

_There was silence, but she didn't move, not until the covers were thrown back and a head of wiry black curls turned towards her, face pale and the circles around her eyes dark and deep. But she still didn't say 'stay' or 'go', only stared at her sister._

_She stared back, pulling a blanket over her lap._

_Instead of answering, she rolled over, making room so they could lay side-by-side._

_Obediently, she laid at her sister's side, curling up and pulling the covers up over their heads. She threaded their fingers together, hands joined and resting on the bed between them, and waited in patient silence, only blinking as she looked over the tear-stained face on the pillow beside her._

_The wind howled outside, the walls and roof rattled, but only the soft whisper of a long sigh made those heartbroken red eyes open._

_“Ren,” she whispered, voice hoarse, tears welling up again. “He's gone.”_

_Her sister's heartbreak seemed to jolt straight through her own chest. “I know, love.”_

_“He wasn't supposed to ever leave me.”_

_“I know.”_

_“And now he's just… gone.”_

_She squeezed their joined hands. “I know.”_

_And again there was only the sound of the storm._

_Someone knocked after awhile; when neither answered, the screen slid a fraction, and there was the sound of someone setting a rattling tray of china on the floor, closing the door behind them as they went. The steamy smell of tea found its way under the covers._

_Neither moved._

_The wind picked up, died down, picked up again. Somewhere in the room, there was the sound of a drip of water that had crept under the roof._

_Neither moved._

_“I loved him. I_ love _him.” Her voice was thick with tears._

 _And there was no way to answer that. For all the understanding and control they had of the universe, there was no way to make it easier. And as much as she could understand loneliness— even now, her own love was far, far away, had been and would be for a time still— there was no way_ she _could comprehend the finality of losing a Guardian, a best friend, a lover, who would never come back, and could never make things the way they had been._

_“Ren was mine. I was supposed to keep him forever.”_

_She'd given him youth and life, just to be by her side. He'd accepted it, thinking he could never be parted from the woman he loved._

_And a rock slide had ended that promise. A simple slip of the earth in the wrong place at the wrong time had taken him away. And if Amaterasu ever took the sun to the sky again, she was sure it would be… well, an act of god._

_“Why have you come?” she finally asked, slipping her hands away, rolling onto her other side. “I've told our sisters time and time again, I want to be alone.”_

_“And yet, you let me in.” Throwing back the covers, she crawled across the room and returned with the tray of tea, cooler now, and poured them each a cup. “I thought it would be best to leave you to your own devices, actually. But everyone else is worried.” She sipped the tea. “And since the stories say Uzume was the only one who could bring her back from her solitude again.”_

_The covers inched down just enough to reveal her face. “I will not be made to dance with you,” she growled._

_“I didn't think you would. They're just stories; they're to make the people feel better, it's not how the world actually works.”_

_“And yet here you are.”_

_“And yet here I am.”_

_That was the last thing they said to each other, or to themselves, for a whole three days. The grief of losing a man so much a husband wouldn't vanish overnight, nor in a week, nor perhaps for years to come. But for three days, tucked away in seclusion, a goddess wept in her sister's lap, and for a little while it sated the screaming ache._


	29. Girl's Night

Girls Night was a time honored tradition of the Dance Department, even if the moniker occasionally strayed when the boys joined in. However, none of the few of them had tagged along on this particular evening, and unlike the reliably weekly parties they all threw, it was more a night of TV and food with a few beers and wine than wild music, dancing, and hook ups. It was comfortable recovery from the stress of college, once a month, but not nearly enough sometimes.

“Still with us, gorgeous?” Cindy teased, kicking Jamie's calve lightly. “You were out for a bit there.”

Groggy, Jamie shook her head and rubbed her eyes. “I'm all good.”

“You were snoring.”

“Was not.”

“Okay, no, but you were totally asleep.”

“I was wide awake.”

“What color did I paint your toes, then?”

Scowling, Jamie looked down to see her hot pink toe nails; she only could roll her eyes and reach for a couple of wings and her hard cider.

Jess, who had apparently been acting as her pillow, laughed and bopped her nose. “Someone needs to get a bit more sleep. Those dark circles under your eyes are going to start spilling onto the rest of your face soon. You wouldn't just be pale, you'd be _gray_.”

“You guys are so nice,” Jamie deadpanned, taking a moment to get up on unsteady legs. “You do such wonderful things for my ego. Anyone want coffee?” she added, halfway into the kitchen.

There were a couple of giggles, mixed with the refusals and affirmatives, but she only rolled her eyes and sighed. When she returned with the fresh hot pot of coffee, she served it with a scowl.

“I could _see_ my reflection in the _window_ ,” she snapped, grabbing a section of bright pink hair. “Who did this, and who should I kill if it doesn't come out?”

Given how hard she was laughing, it had to be Steph. “It's just hair chalk!” she giggled, trying to retreat as Jamie advanced to punch her in the shoulder. “Two washes, tops! We know how fashionable you are, wanted to save you the trouble of doing it yourself, so your hair and nails would match!”

“Besides,” Jess laughed, “picture Kennedy's face when he walks into the studio and sees you! He's going have a freaking heart attack!”

Jamie gave her a sour look. “I hope the contemporary professors see this and decide they want _all_ of you to wear this for the winter concert.”

“Eh, they're only allowed to do wigs; we went through that hubbub a few years ago.”

Kate held her arms open wide from her seat in the deepest cushion on the furthest end of the couch, waving Jamie to her and watching as she poured whiskey in her coffee. “That's the only kind of Full Irish I care about, a damn good cup of coffee.”

“Where's another kind?”

“Breakfast. It's gross, though; I don't want anything with the word 'blood' on my plate at any time.”

“I'll drink to that.” Barbeque wings and coffee didn't really go well together, but that didn't stop her from consuming them both rapidly. “Just promise me you'll stop anyone from drawing dicks on my face if I pass out again.”

“Babe, you've gotta get more sleep.” Kate sighed, joining in devouring her own order. “I've never known you to pass out in the middle of a party unless a hell of a lot more booze was involved.”

“I'm getting enough sleep! Just, I mean, not _good_ sleep.”

“Too restless?”

“Sure, we'll say that.”

“I mean, it's that time of the semester, I don't blame you.” She paused to lick sauce from her fingers. “I've woke up three times this month panicking about a paper I don't actually have to write. Midterms fuck with you hard.”

“Hm.”

“Honestly, NyQuil is your best friend. Knocks me on my ass every single time without fail. Even makes it worth the whole room-spinning, weird dreams, can't-eve-think-a-straight-line side effects.”

As if her dreams could get any weirder. Filing away the advice, she went to grab another slice of pizza, only to feel a tug on her hair as she leaned over the coffee table; she looked back to see Steph, holding a strand of hair in one hand and a piece of purple chalk in the other with a ridiculous smile on her face.

Jamie sighed as her friends laughed. “Go ahead; no real point in stopping you now.”

And to be completely fair, the look on Mr. Kennedy's face Monday morning really was worth it.


	30. Trondheim

_Winter had struck the Norsemen hard in Trondheim, early and fast. Already the ground was covered in a thing white blanket of snow, and ice had come to every tributary until only the ocean was left free. The air was biting, brisk, and sharp, and no animals were foolish enough to venture out of their hideaways when there was a cloudy, dreary promise of more to come._

_Winter was hers, and in the thin air she felt safe and at home— usually._

_This winter was lonely already. The village had given her her own place, separate from the one sister who had come with her, set on the edge of the water, with only the sights of ships in her doorway, and the sounds of tired fishermen and the mewling cats to remind her of how quiet it really was._

_Every day, she found herself standing in the doorway, wrapped in heavy wools and furs, warmed by the raging and quietly crackling fire in the center of the room and chilled by the sting of the wind that whipped at her face. Today she stood with a cat in her arms, curled up lazily and purring, as another circled at her feet and butted its head against her calve; the goddess of cats, she thought with a sigh, of all things But who was she to dispute with them, especially when they'd given her so much so generously— and really, they made good companions._

_“You look so mournful, I'd say you've aged ten years since I last saw you this morning,” her sister chuckled quietly as she came around to the door, trying to get her to smile with a poke to the ribs; with all the layers she wore, it didn't make much of a difference. She sighed, adjusting the bow she'd slung across her back and flexing her hand around the grouse she carried._

_She gave a lackluster smile that even she knew looked more like a grimace. “Hunting again, Sigyn?” she asked, using the name her sister had been called by upon their arrival._

_“Of course. You can't tell me you aren't sick of fish; it's all we've had since we got here. With the exception of the fowl_ I _bring in.” She bustled into the room, tossing aside a few layers of dark red wool as she took a place by the fire._

_“They've been generous.”_

_“Generous, yes, and also so tedious in their generosity.” Already she was surrounded by cats as they grabbed for fresh-plucked feathers and sniffed hopefully at the bird. “Are you saying you don't want any?”_

_Finally she smiled, turning her back on the water to join her sister and set up the spit. “I wouldn't go that far, I suppose.”_

_Together in silence, they readied the bird, leaving the entrails for the exuberant cats as they put the meat over the fire and sat back, grabbing blankets and cloaks and pillows to make something of a nest to curl up together._

_“They're telling stories, you know,” her sister said with a sigh, noticing as soon as she'd checked the door for the tenth time. “How Freyja wept as she crossed the Earth to find Odr— they won't be surprised if you go on a moment's notice. In fact, I believe they're rather counting on you stealing a boat any day now.”_

_Her face burned red. “I would never.” Although the thought had crossed her mind more than once. “They've been at sea for a month and a half now. Twice as long as they were meant to be. It's not unreasonable to be afraid.”_

_“I never said you were being unreasonable,” Sigyn corrected, casually reaching into the fire to pluck away a stray burning feather. “But you_ know _no harm can come to them. Surely there's never been a safer voyage in all of human history.”_

_It was sensible, and of course it was absolutely true, but it wasn't enough; again, she looked to the water._

_“And even if he_ were _in danger,” her sister added, “he has the goddess of water to make sure it stays smooth sailing; how many Norsemen can ever say they have Freyja so damned determined to keep their ship coming home?”_

_“Only these ones. It still doesn't make this any less lonely of a time.”_

_Defeated, she rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically as she removed the grouse from the flames and sampled a piece. Deeming it acceptable, she found a plate and placed it on the floor in front of them. “You are helpless.”_

_“Agreed. And pathetic.”_

_“Completely. Would you like me to stay with you tonight?”_

_“You don't have to.”_

_“Then I will.” She took a dagger from her belt and cut into the meat with a beaming smile, brushing back the eager cats and laying her head on her sister's shoulder. “It's too quiet for me, too. I can see how it would be too much for one person so used to being half of two. Besides, what good am I if I can't be a comfort to my sister when her heart is most broken?”_

_So together they stayed. With heavy blankets and warm flames, they stayed awake half the night like the children they never were, whispering secrets and playing girlish games until the night became its darkest and they fell asleep beside one another._

_The ship returned late the next morning. Not a single sailor was missing. She all but wept as her Odr swept her into his arms, and her Sigyn was kind enough not to embarrass her by pointing out just_ how _enthusiastic their kisses became._


	31. Chapter 31

“Um… Jamie?”

She froze on the couch, squeezing her eyes shut as she paused her video. Slowly, she looked up, giving a tense smile that cracked the bright blue clay mask that she had on her face and shifting the slug-like gel patches she wore under eyes. “Hey, Vince. Hey, Kevin.How unexpected and also totally humiliating.”

Her friends were kind enough not to laugh, although it seemed to require some effort. “Not expecting to be seen by anyone today?” Kevin teased, kicking his shoes off at the wall.

“I wonder what gave it away.”

“I just want you to know, any of that sexual tension between us?” He waved at her printed leggins and oversized sweater and greasy hair in its high bun. “Gone. Totally. Just gone. Thank you.”

Instead of saying anything, she pointed her toes and effortlessly brought her leg up parallel to her body.

“Never mind, it's back.”

“Jamie, stop manipulating my teammates!”

“But it's so easy!” She laughed with them, making room on the couch for Kevin while Vince fell into his usual chair. “Not my fault I'm sexy as sin.”

“You're _something_ as sin in that get up. And I don't think your new boyfriend would appreciate— What?” He squinted behind her; Jamie turned to see Vince awkwardly stop mid-gesture, trying to cut off his friend. “What'd I say?”

Color flooded her face. “God, why the fuck did I have to go blabbing to everyone about that bastard?”

At least Kevin was kind enough to look sheepish. “If it makes you feel any better, Vince was the one who told me you were after him. Didn't go well?”

“Not even a little bit. But hey.” She winked, because covering was much better than giving any explanation of the ordeal. “That just means _we_ can have a little rendezvous of our own, huh?”

“As hot as that flexibility thing is, I think I have to decline. For the sake of everyone else we know after the inevitable break up.”

“Who said anything about a break up? I just want to hit it and quit it.”

“At least your intentions are honest.”

Vince rolled his eyes. “God, you're so gross. And I'm not just talking about what's on your face— what the hell _is_ going on with your face?”

Pouting— only a bit, with how stiff it made her face— she poked a dry patch of clay on her forehead. “I need to feel pretty. My ego hasn't been great lately.”

“And looking like the creature from the Black Lagoon is going to help that _how_?”

“Have you ever even seen that movie?”

“Why, have you?”

“ _Yes_ , Marco's an old film buff.”

Both boys groaned.

“And this is not what the thing looks like! And for your information, this is good for pores!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Still look like a monster.” Kevin smiled as he leaned against her legs and got a good swat on the shoulder. “A sexy monster, don't worry.”

“I needed to hear that.”

He snorted. “When have you ever not thought you were sexy? As long as I've known you, you have never walked into a room without thinking you were the hottest piece of ass to ever cross the threshold.”

“I mean, yeah.” She shrugged. “But getting rejected by a guy is not something I'm used to. Getting rejected by a guy _that hot_ has given my ego a bit of an enormous freaking dent. And because of it all messing with my head, I've been a dancing disaster, and I've broken out like crazy. So I've gotta be cute again, because at the moment that's all I have going for me.”

She knew the boys were giving each other looks, but she ignored them, looking down at her laptop and pretending to be engrossed in whatever was on the screen. They had their own silent conversation, gesturing wildly, until they reached some conclusion and settled. Kevin sighed, patting her knee. “You know, if it would make you feel better, we could always make out a little bit. But you've gotta wash that crap off your face first.”

Jamie cracked a smile. “I really should pass… good offer though.”

“Maybe we hook you up with one of our teammates that's graduating in two months?” Vince suggested.

Her ears perked up at that. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“How tall are we talking?”

“Six four.”

“You know what, maybe I could deal with that.”


	32. Mazu

_The waves that crashed on the beach were rough, more violent than they had been the day before, with a dinghy gray sky that didn't bode well for anything. It may have just been the currents; it also may have been her own doing, her anxiousness stirring up the water the more unhappy she became. It was bad enough that the beaches were clear, and the docks, and no fisherman had even dreamed of taking his boat out for the day, but it didn't seem to be enough to stop_ _the crew from loading their fleet of junks, piling supplies near the docks and shuffling onto the decks to store them when the waves quelled for a moment._

_There he was, in the fray, in the heart of it all, never one to let his people do work that he could help with himself. It was completely unfair; she stood nearby, watching, well aware that the men saw her, well aware that he was the only one who was reluctant to glance her way. He always knew where she was, and she him, and now was certainly no exception, and yet…_

_Perhaps it was a bit petty— no, it was definitely a bit petty— she let the heavy red gown slip down, until her shoulders and collar were stung by the salty spray in the wind._ _The gusts carried her name, calls of “Mazu! Mazu! Mazu!” reaching her ears faintly._ _From there, it had to have turned to something unsavory_ _, because he looked up, fury quickly lighting in his eyes, and ran down the dock towards her; he didn't stop there, and grabbed her a bit roughly by the shoulder, dragging her back towards their home._

_And he didn't say a word until they were on the porch. “What could possibly make you think this was acceptable?” he huffed, pulling up the gown so that it covered her completely once again. “Coming out_ _in your sister's robe_ _and making a show of yourself?_ _Letting them gawk at you like that? Do you have any idea the sort of things they were saying?”_

_Instead of answering, she sat down, legs dangling over the edge of the porch, and turned her back to him._

_“You come after me, make this scene, all so you can go right back to being mad and not saying a word to me?_ _Really? We're playing this game?” He sneered. “You're mad at me, I understand that, but I'm not changing my mind, and you need to stop_ this _!” The crashing waves were visible from where they sat, and he held his hand towards them, as if she could have forgotten. “This isn't going to keep me here, and all you're doing is putting lives in danger!”_

_“This isn't me.” Her voice was so small, knees tucked against her chin and words mumbled into her robe, with the sound of the wind, it was more for herself than him._

_But of course he heard it anyways. “Of course it is! I'm astounded you would try and deny it!”_

_“It isn't me,” she said again, with a little more conviction. This time she looked up, and that seemed to be enough to calm him for a moment._

_He paced a few steps, pulling at his hair, frustration in every line of his face, but finally threw his hands up, let out a sigh, and sat down beside her. “I'm going. Nothing is going to stop that.”_

_That she would not concede, no matter how true she knew it was. Instead she leaned on his shoulder, wondering if he could tell how cold she was. “I don't want you to leave me.”_

_“_ _I'll be back.”_

_“It's a_ year _.”_

_“You've been apart from your sisters for far longer before.”_

_“You're not my sisters.”_

_He pulled her close. “You're not making this easy on me.”_

_“Good.”_

_“I have to go; nothing you say is going to stop me. No storm you churn up, no pleas you make on bended knees, nothing.”_

_That she had no doubts about, his voice made it clear,_ _and instantly assured her that he'd never believe when she told him she wasn't making the storm in her anger. So they sat together, neither saying a word, staring out at the water, watching the junks lurch and roll against the batter of the waves and wind. Someone was calling her, echoing through the house,”Empress of Heaven! Empress!”— not one of their own, though, making it easy enough to ignore._

_“You should go,” he murmured._

_She shook her head. “It can wait, whatever it is.” She turned her head, glancing over his face, trying to read him. “_ _Four_ _days.”_

_There was frustration in his sigh. “What?”_

_“_ _Four_ _days.” She sat up and turned, pulling on his arm until he did the same, sitting face-to-face and looking eye-to-eye. “Give me_ _four_ _days. Delay_ _your voyage three days, if only for me. The morning of the fourth day, I don't care if you leave before the sun rises,_ _without giving me so much as a last parting word,_ _but give me four more days.”_

_He was calm, even though there was anger in his eyes. “You've known for a month that we set sail tomorrow; you have no excuse for not being prepared.”_

_“I_ am _prepared; that doesn't mean I have to willingly let you take away my beating heart.” Dramatics weren't going to win this for her, though; she shook her head. “Four days is all I ask of you. I don't care how they're spent, you can stay with the sailors and not lay eyes on me for a moment of it all, I don't care. I'll leave you alone the entire time and not speak a single word until next I see you in a years time, if that's what it takes. Whatever I have to offer, I will. Give me four days before you set sail.”_

_It was that offer that seemed to make him realize the seriousness of her request; it wasn't for loneliness, it was for real fear. A real reason to keep him behind. A lift of his brow, and she answered the question before he could ask it._

_“_ _This isn't me, my fear or anger, and_ _I won't have you lost to the sea_ _because you think this is my bitterness_ _._ _A year alone I will suffer; a lifetime with you taken by the waters, lost where no one will ever possibly hope to find you, is not a sacrifice I'm willing to make.”_

_Finally, he nodded slowly. “I'll stay,” he whispered, taking her hands in his._

_He did; the entire crew did, and on the second day the wind ravaged the coast, pounded against the houses, waves washing away a few of the less lucky ones back into the water._ _On the fourth day, when the sun was high and the waters were calm again, she finally let him go, clinging to his hand until the last possible second, standing on the docks as he left, and staying there until the junks finally slipped over the horizon and vanished._


	33. Rebound

Maybe there was something pathetic about sitting at a bar on a Monday night. Or maybe there was something disappointingly satisfying about it. “Another long island,” Jamie requested as she waved down the bartender on his way past; considering the generous tips she'd been providing, he was all too happy to comply.

Alison, however, did not look quite so pleased. “Jamie, two of those is supposed to be your limit. We've done the research, taken the data— with your body mass, three long islands is halfway to dead. It's science, bitch.”

“Excellent.” She clinked their glasses together. “The way I've been sleeping, that's exactly what I'm going for.”

“Maybe you should do some cutting back on the caffeine instead.”

Sufficiently relaxed, she rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck and shook her head. “It's a vicious cycle. I drink caffeine 'cause I need energy 'cause I can't sleep, it keeps me up, I need more 'cause I haven't slept 'cause I had too much… The crash is coming, and it's going to be ugly.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” Alison waved for another of whatever bright green thing she was drinking. “At least you're nice enough to give me a warning before I'm hauling your unconscious body down the sidewalk.”

Already half the long island was gone; Jamie sighed. “And then, you know, even when I _do_ sleep, I get, like, less than an hour before I get some of the worst dreams _ever,_ so the sleep I do get isn't nearly good enough.” Liquor always did give her loose lips, but she was so far gone that she didn't even care. “I swear, I've slept, like, four peaceful hours the past three nights.”

Alison was far enough gone that she didn't even seem fazed. “I've given you my opinion.”

“And my insomnia disagrees with your lame opinion.”

Snorting, she shouldered her playfully. “Y'know, sometimes insomnia happens 'cause your brain is tired but your body isn't.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How much of that is _actually_ true?”

“Most of it, probably. Maybe.” She shrugged. “I only took that one psych class last year, and my head is a little bit cloudy at the moment. Not the point.” Giggling, she spun once on her stool, looking especially drunk as she did. “The point was that you just need someone to wear you out _physically_. At night. So you can sleep. Meaning sex.”

“I got the meaning, believe it or not.”

“Good. 'Cause I was thinking that guy over in the corner playing third wheel is cute enough to provide such a service for you. To you. Whichever works.”

None too subtly, as she often thought best for such endeavors, Jamie turned around and eyed the crew-cut blond with enough smolder in her gaze to make him blush— which, to her pleasure, he did, just before returning a similar expression. “I could do that.”

“I think you _should_ do that. Him. That.”

Without giving an answer, she slipped from the bar and took her drink, chatting up the sexy stranger who was nearly as drunk as she was, easily finding their way back to his place. He was strong and confident, sure of himself in every breathtaking move he made. He was flirty and playful and eager to please. And as handsome as his face was, it was blurry and unfamiliar, and went with a name that she had no intention of remembering, all the anonymity she craved. But most importantly, he had _stamina_ , and by one in the morning she was satisfied and bordering comatose in his bed, letting her buzz do the rest of the work to make her drift off to sleep.

_He looked almost as amused as he did frustrated, waving his hand dismissively as he joined her and poured his own glass of wine. “It's the Scots.”_

_“Again?”_

_“You'll never believe who with.”_

_She snorted into her own wine. “The damn English!”_

_He raised his glass. “May they tire of this quickly, just like the rest of us did years ago, and stop pulling all these other poor souls into the fray.”_

_When she gave him a confused look, he muttered over the rim of his glass, “C'est le fucking fran_ _ç_ _ais.”_

_And god, it made her laugh so hard, doubled over and hardly able to breathe, completely unexpected, made only more funny by how seriously he said it._

Jamie woke up without a sound, rolled from her new friend's bed, and disappeared, cursing, into the early morning darkness.


	34. Sati

“ _They build you such beautiful temples.”_

_Slowly, smiling, she opened her tired eyes and looked up at him; lazily, he lounged beside her in their big bed of a hundred pillows, filling the room wall-to-wall, staring out the wide window before them at the setting sun. Idly he traced a line along her back, up to the knob of her neck and down to the small of her back. With a low chuckle, she rose to her elbows and moved, just enough to look where he was looking._

_“It's not just for me,” she murmured sleepily. “In one aspect or another, it's for all of us.” Although it was exceptional to behold, she was still well-worn from the journey that had brought them there only the night before, and she laid her head in his lap with a stifled yawn, curling up with the silk blanket and pressing a small kiss to the skin of his thigh it revealed. “But you're right, it is breathtaking.”_

_He gave a soft laugh. “Jagannath is for all of us,” he corrected, starting to make small swirls on the curve of her spine. “Vimala is for_ you _. The hymns they sing, the food they offer, the sacrifices they make, here they are all for_ you _, my Parvati.”_

 _“Your_ Sati _,” she corrected with a smile, drawing the bottom of the blankets up to show off her henna-painted feet. “Your Sati's_ feet _, if we want to be really accurate.”_

_He laughed— it was the most beautiful sound in the world and no one would ever convince her otherwise. “That's inaccurate and you know it.”_

_“Yes. But it made you laugh.”_

_“So it did.”_

_“Besides.” Lazily, she climbed onto his lap, which finally seemed to be enough to pull his attention away from the window; he wrapped his arms around her and met her eyes with a look of what she'd only describe as utter bliss. “I love the story of Shiva and Sati.”_

_“_ _You do?”_

_“Mm-hmm. I think it might be one of my most favorite stories about us.”_

_He was kind enough not to mention that she said that about nearly all of their myths. “What about it do you love so much?”_

_“How fiercely Shiva loved his wife. He tried to destroy all of creation in his grief. Wouldn't even leave her body. It took the power of the gods to stop him.”_

_He grinned and playfully gave a tug on her long braid. “And she came back to him again. To love and adore and walk the Earth again. My_ Parvati.”

_“Thankfully, this time with a father who didn't drive her to throw herself on a fire.” She giggled and smacked his shoulder as he tickled the back of her legs. “Promise me something, my darling Shiva?”_

_“Anything.”_

_“Should I ever self-immolate, don't try tearing apart our darling creation in grief.”_

_“I'll do even better than that: no matter how you should die, I'll leave the universe completely in tact. Unless it's something truly ridiculous, something that completely ruins the laws of physics, like the ground opening beneath you and dropping you to the center of the Earth. That's too much of a disaster to just let continue, that requires a restart of the entire planet.” She threw her head back and laughed. “Promises, promises,” she chuckled. He kissed her then, as thoroughly and as passionately as any man who would have torn apart the universe for his wife, and she could only sigh as they laid back on the pillows together, staring out the window at a fiery sky._

_It really was a darling creation._


	35. Midnight Breakfast

“Forget the Freshmen 15,” Steph announced as she slammed a third plate of waffles and ice cream on the tables. “All the weight I've ever gained since getting here has come from midterms and finals. Stress eating and the dining halls being such fucking enablers.”

Alison cackled at that, raising her glass— of _milk_ , which was pretty much the most ridiculous thing in the world, even though there were a few flasks with Bailey's floating around the table to spike it— and clinking it with her second-favorite dance major's glass. “Midnight Breakfasts for the win!”

“Hell yeah! Does anyone have the bourbon flask? I want to mix it with the syrup.”

It was with Pippa, who passed it with a laugh. “Because you need _more_ sugar on that shit?”

Steph shrugged and dumped at least a shot and a half worth of bourbon onto her waffle sundae mess. There was no subtlety, not from her or anyone else, since they had learned from experience that absolutely no one cared, too tired from studying or stressed by exams or just plain uninterested in the rowdy dancers so long as they stayed out of trouble. “Sugar keeps me going!” she laughed. “Maybe Jamie could use a bit more, with that face!”

Hearing her name startled Jamie to attention, shaking her head as she came back from whatever distant place her mind had gone. “What?”

“Christ, someone needs a nap! Or to actually eat something.”

There was still half a waffle left on her plate, the only one she'd gotten in the hour and a half they'd been there. “I'm not very hungry,” she mumbled; the plate ended up in front of Jordan, and while he looked momentarily surprised to see food appear in front of him out of nowhere in the chaos of the night, he didn't question it and dug in.

It certainly amused Alison. “Y'know, you dance majors would be super easy to kill. Slip some poison into some food and just drop it in front of you, bang, dead dancer.”

“Are you getting sick?”

She shrugged. “Maybe.” It certainly felt like it.

“Hell of a time for it to happen.” Concern for a friend didn't dampen Steph's appetite so that she spoke through her ice cream. “But at least there's fall break! Whole lot of napping, having Mom and Dad take care of you, _real food_!”

Fall break, one four-day weekend, wasn't much of a break to start with. “Not going home.” She shrugged like it didn't make her a bit sad. “No car to get down to Virginia and back. Mom and Dad have work and Zoe, and like hell are they taking a nine-year-old on a drive like that— just not worth it.”

“Aw, I'm sorry, hun.”

She shrugged again. “I'm used to it, I guess. I mean, when I was in Europe, I hardly saw them. A lot of time it was just me and Marco taking care of each other when we were sick. At least now I've got more phone calls and more real breaks.”

But if she were honest, it was what she wanted. More than anything, Jamie wanted to curl up on the couch with her mother and a crappy rom-com and a bowl of chocolate-covered popcorn. And maybe she wouldn't be able to talk about _everything_ that was bothering her— she didn't want to admit them to herself, let alone anyone else— but it would have been nice and it would have been almost normal, and it would have been enough.

Instead, she was in a university dining hall, halfheartedly eating out-of-season strawberries from someone else's plate in the middle of a thousand people, feeling desperately like she was on her own, like a complete cliche.

Again she was shaken from her thoughts by Alison leaning her head on her shoulder and sighing. “We can go grocery shopping tomorrow and make a huge fucking pot of soup and have a bed-and-Netflix weekend instead.”

“Don't you want to go home?”

“Eh, Thanksgiving isn't that far away.” She grinned. “Like hell am I leaving you here _alone_ when you're feeling sick. Come on, you know you want to.”

“Can we get chocolate popcorn too?”

“I don't know why you'd want to, ew, but I won't stop you.”

Jamie finally smiled.

She wasn't _totally_ alone.


	36. Traditions

_They called her Juno, and as summer turned they combed her hair and fashioned it into a tutulu. Her shoes were red to match her veil and her tunic was pure white and cotton. They named him Jupiter and yelled crude jokes that made him blush as much as they made him laugh. He led their way to the house— a temple— and smiled adoringly as he lifted her over the threshold._

_In heavy wools and slippers of fur she was Freyja, laughing as the women filled the hall with cats as blessings and to be blessed. He was Odr, and the sword he gave her was shining and new— though it would never be given to a son— as was the one she gave him— smooth as satin, as there was no family crest to give it. He regaled the guests with wild stories of his travels as the feast carried on and on and on; it had to have been days before she shook her hair out like a veil and let him lead her, with their guests cheering in wild fanfare, into a private chamber._

_She had been painted in delicate and elaborate henna, draped in red, named Parvati, and gone through seven trials with Shiva by her side. He spoke the vows eloquently, powerfully to the gathered guests, so beautifully she was sure that no man, past or yet to come, would ever sound as perfect or sincere as her husband did then._

_As Clíodhan and Ciabahn, they dressed her in blue and wove her hair with lavender and wildflowers. Bells rang wildly, echoing across the hills, as their hands were wrapped in delicate ribbon and bound together, and the sun beamed bright as they danced and drank and ate and were worshiped on another of the happiest days of their lives._

_Everywhere they went, no matter how many times it happened, it never got old._

_They wanted to see their gods married as their traditions and myths dictated. And for as many centuries as they traveled, they were happy to oblige._


	37. Rehearsing

Fouetté, arabesque, penché— on se reverra, on se reverra— _he held her, braced her arms as she flooded the valley beneath them with rain from the dark sky—_ we’ll meet again, we’ll meet again— shoulder’s back, eyes up, hips center— pas de bourrée couru, sautée, sous sus scoop turn— _the days ran together seemingly endlessly, crossing the world on foot, but it was all okay because he was there beside her for every step_ — where nothing is anything anymore, when nothing has meaning any longer— là où rien n’est plus rien— _tender kisses, gentle hands, adoring words, love in every second he lived—_ rond de jambe attitude— on comprendre— _the way he looked at her—_ we’ll understand— _as if she was the answer to existence—_ d’où l’on vient— where we come from— _as if he could find the universe in her eyes_ — chaînés, illusion— no, piqués, fouetté— or Italian fouetté— no, piques, illusion—

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Jamie yelled, raking her hands through her hair as she came down onto flat feet and stared, frustrated, at her reflection in the wall of mirrors. “Dammit straight to hell!” Again she tried the transition, watching her feet get sloppier and sloppier with each attempt, yielding absolutely no results.

With an annoyed sound, she threw herself into a completely separate move— chassé, grand tour jeté— and snarled at herself once more as she watched it in the mirror. Everything she did now, absolutely everything, was less than she wanted it to be; the night had passed fruitlessly, the hours spent in the studio culminating in absolutely no progress.

It had to be perfect. The world felt like it was crashing down around here lately, but at least she had control when she was dancing.

The song began again, as it had every four minutes since the loop had been set; Jamie groaned at her reflection and took her place, muttering softly as she rose onto her toes. Closed fourth, strong arms into second— no thinking, just breathing, just dancing—

_He covered her body with his, held her close, whispered wild promises of eternity that would sound ridiculous passing any other lips, save for the fact that they were honest and true and he would keep them if it took all of his soul—_

Jamie’s stomach lurched, her posture faltered, and all she could bring herself to do was walk to the barre, hold on tight, and repeatedly bring her forehead to the mirror with a dull ‘thunk’.

She missed the sound of the door opening, but still didn’t jump when she heard the voice behind her. “Miss Anderson?”

“What up, Mr. K?” she asked as casually as she could, still hitting her head, waving over her shoulder, and trying to pretend nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Jamie, please stop that.”

“Oh, I’m fine, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Then for the mirror’s sake.”

With a reluctant sigh she turned around, looking up at her teacher and not even bothering to try and smile. “How are you, Mr. Kennedy?”

“I’m very well, thank you.” He was completely casual, utterly nonplussed, arms crossed and expression almost amused. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you have a night class tonight?”

“Oh, is that _tonight_? I hadn’t noticed. The time totally escaped me. I decided working on my solo piece was more important.” Jamie paused and looked up at him sheepishly. “Any chance you bought any of that?”

At least it made him laugh. Mr. Kennedy walked over and grabbed the remote for the stereo to pause the music, joined her at the barre, and sank down onto the floor; Jamie followed as he spoke. “I hope you won’t think me rude for saying, but you’ve been ‘off’ a bit lately, Jamie.”

She sighed, picking lint off of her tights. “I don’t suppose you’re just talking about that god-awful relevé, are you?”

“I’m talking about a number of bad relevés from a student who didn’t even falter her first day in this studio.” He waited in silence for a moment, staring off at the clock on the wall; when she didn’t answer, he chuckled. “You know, my daughter just turned twelve last month.”

“Happy belated birthday to your daughter.”

“Thank you. I’m starting to learn what it looks like when there’s Boy Trouble, though, and it looks a lot like you.” Again she didn’t speak. “So I take it things didn’t work out very well with Dr. Powell’s TA.”

Jamie finally looked at him, horrified, but he shushed her. “I’m not going to say anything; I wouldn’t risk his job or his degree.” She had actually just been embarrassed; Cole’s job had been the furthest thing from her mind. “You are both two consenting adults, the rest is none of my business.”

“How did you know?”

“I’m not as old as I look, you know; my hearing is very good, and gossip spreads quickly around this department.”

That got a little smile out of her. “Yeah. It, um, didn’t quite go the way I had hoped it would.”

“Say no more. Please, really, that’s an aspect of my students’ lives that I don’t want to know about.” Chuckling, he nodded at the studio. “It must have been fairly bad to shake you up enough to affect your dancing as much as it has.”

She shrugged. “Yeah. A bit.”

“Will you take advice from an old man like me?”

“Thought you just said you weren’t old?”

He at least smiled, but still continued. “You’re a talented dancer, Jamie. Already at twenty, one of the most accomplished ballerinas I know of. Dancing will always be something you have, which is something that not many people can say. This boy— man— has proven to be worth little more than a passing thought, just as other boys— men— will in your lifetime. You’re allowed to be sad, but don’t let yourself think it’s the end of the world. No matter how far under your skin he's managed to get _today_ , whatever sadness there is will be no more than a memory _tomorrow—_ or, more honestly, two dozen tomorrows, or even more; no matter how long it feels, though, don’t let it crush you before then.”

Jamie had a fleeting thought about Marco, remembering how she’d let the end of their whatever-it-had-been drive her passionately through the entire first semester of school. But this was so different, wasn’t it? “What if he’s the kinda guy that you don’t shake that easily?”

“The kind of guy you don’t shake because he’s someone you really do want to be with?”

“Um, no. Decidedly not, actually.” But she didn’t elaborate; if the details weren’t suitable for her best friends to believe, they would hardly be fit for a professor.

Mr. Kennedy looked at the ceiling as he thought. “Then you can only do what you have been, mourning and regretting yet knowing you made the right decision. It’ll take a bit longer, hurt a bit more, but it will pass and you will survive.”

It was everything she’d been told and already told herself, but hearing it from Mr. Kennedy was far more reassuring than it had ever been before; everything sounded more convincing coming from a salt-and-pepper-haired man with a deep accented voice. Jamie sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Don’t be mad at yourself for letting yourself feel something. Channel it. Use it in your dance— that’s what the song you've picked is about, isn’t it? Letting go, moving on?”

“A bit, I guess.”

“Go on.” He clicked the remote in his hand and nodded to the floor as the music started again. “Show me what you have so far; I bet I can help you fix whatever problems you’re having.”

“Alright.” She cocked her head as she started dancing. “Weren’t you going home?”

“My wife will understand half an hour to help my best student. Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

Mr. Kennedy smiled. “Don’t skip anymore night classes.”


	38. Halloween

“Well _hello_ , sexy.”

From the very first sound of his voice, Jamie’s face fell into a glare. Alison let out a huff of annoyance and adjusted her mask as, in unison, they turned from the bar to face the frat boy behind them. “Can I help you?” she ground out.

Whatever monster he was dressed as, she couldn’t tell; he wore one gnarled plastic hand and a torn and bloody shirt. He had the sweat and hair to suggest that there was a mask lying around somewhere. It wasn’t a good look. “Just admiring your costumes, ladies.”

Jamie was ready to slap him already, but Alison stopped her with just a look. “Thank you.”

“So what’re you supposed to be?”

“She’s a fucking butterfly, are you blind?” Alright, so she’d never been _really_ good at biting her tongue.

He ignored her; she rolled her eyes and grabbed her drink as he took a step closer to Alison. “You doing anything tonight?”

“Is there _anything_ that will make you go away?”

“Yes. If your friend agrees to have a drink with me.”  
Jamie pulled at the laces of her bodice, about to say something, but Alison shushed her. She tossed her blonde hair back and batted her eyes and smiled coyly and said, as prettily as she had ever been, “Sorry, I’m not into bestiality, I don’t think I could sleep with a pig like you.” She took her own drink and hooked her arm with Jamie’s. “I think we’ll drink these somewhere else.”

Jamie laughed as they walked away, grabbing her skirt up so it wasn’t stepped on in the crowd. “I love you. God, do I love you. I thought you were going to let him get away with it!” It was her first night out since her birthday; after her talk with Mr. Kennedy and two more days of sulking, she had started feeling better at last, and tonight was going to be a Halloween celebration of that. After all, she’d never been able to pass up a reason to wear a costume.

“You have to learn patience, grasshopper,” Alison said sagely. “Yes, you could do it your way and be a bitch, but then he only hates you. You have to wait patiently to strike, sting deep, and make him as embarrassed of himself as he is enraged at you. It’s a talent, you’ll learn someday.”

“Only with your wisdom to guide me.”

Vince grinned as he made room for them in the booth, tossing the hat he’d been holding back to Jamie. “I was watching that from here. That never gets old. Jamie, did you ever hear stories about her in high school?”

“I once broke the hand of a guy who grabbed my ass,” she said proudly. “I got suspended, but he missed the entire hockey season, so it was worth it.”

She nodded in approval. “I chose my best friend well.”

“Yeah.” Vince snorted into his drink. “I am pretty awesome.”

“You ass!”

Alison leaned her head on his shoulder. “He is an ass, but he’s our ass.”

He smiled triumphantly. “You heard her! Shut your ugly mug!”

“Hey!” Jamie tossed her hair back and tipped her hat. “I am a beautiful, intelligent, internationally renowned queen of the fucking pirates, and you will give me the respect— and rum!— that that title commands!”

“Is it hard on you, now that Kim Jong-Il is dead? I mean, it has to be a burden, being the only one in the world anymore with an ego _that_ big.”

She kicked him under the table, but laughed about it, especially as he lurched a little and threw his drink all over the table. “Aw, dammit! I didn’t mean to do that!”

“It’s alright!” They all at once began to hastily try and clean up the mess. “This just means _you_ have to be the one to get me another drink.”

“That’ll take forever! It’s packed! We just waited ten minutes for these! Can't you just wait until we head off to the party?”

“Yeah, well, maybe next time we won’t go out on Halloween.”

“Why the hell shouldn’t we?” Alison looked personally offended at the question. “Jamie and I look damn good— eh, maybe you do a little, too—”

“Hey!”

“—so we should go out and show off. It’s not our fault that every bar we go to is packed to the brim and every man we tend to run into is the embodiment of scum.” She sipped her drink. “Just, like, consider this a chance to practice putting them in their place—”

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

Jamie sank lower into the bench and tipped her hat to hide her face. “Over there. Look who just came in.”

Her roommates looked. As soon as they saw who she was referring to, their jaws dropped and their eyes went wide. “No way,” Vince actually whispered.

“Uh-huh.”

“I think they saw you.”

“Shit, of course they did.” Suddenly, for all of her talk, the last people Jamie was okay with seeing were the four who had just approached the hostess’ stand. “Are they coming this way? Please tell me they’re not coming this way.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Alison let out a breath. “They’re being seated across the room. Lumberjack and Braids and Muscles keep looking over here, but every time we make eye contact they stop. Fucking hell, they’re out on Halloween and not even wearing costumes?” She squeezed Jamie’s hand. “TA guy— is he the one who just pulled out _glasses_ to read the menu? Jesus, my _grandfather_ does that.”

“That’s the one.”

Vince sighed, grabbed a napkin, and took a pen from pocket. “There you go; you were right,” he said grudgingly, handing her the scribbled ‘IOU $2 billion’. “Now that that’s out of the way, riddle me this: who’s the pretty one?”

Alison snorted. “Be more specific, sweetheart, when you’re talking about a table of freaking models.”

“She knows exactly who I’m talking about.”

Jamie dared a quick glance over her shoulder just to be sure. “That’d be Donovan. Don.”

“Donovan,” Vince repeated quietly, licking his lips. “Is there any chance he’s—?”

“Single as far as I could figure,” she said with a shrug. “Have at him.”

Alison watched, amused, as Vince jumped from the table and made a beeline for the bar to grab a drink. “By any chance,” she said casually, sipping her drink, “is Donovan actually gay?”

“How the hell should I know? Vince can find out for himself.”

“Jamie!”

“What?!”

She rolled her eyes. “You can’t use Vince as pest control.”

“I’m not _using_ him! Completely. Hey, he’s the one who looked across the crowded room and decided he was going to swoon. I just… didn’t… dissuade him.” But she had to look away, down at her drink, knowing full well how guilty she looked.

“If he gets his heart broken, _you_ are going to be the one to Netflix binge with him this weekend— even if you have to skip rehearsal.”

“So not fair.” Even though it really completely was.

Alison stared across the room a bit longer, eyes locked on the group; Jamie could guess every time someone looked over and met her gaze, since her eyebrow raised challengingly every so often. “Oh, I can't watch,” she mumbled, ducking her head. “Vince just got over there with two drinks.”

“Best of luck to him.”

She looked her best friend over, a genuine look of concern on her face. “Okay, can you please pause everything for a minute and talk to me? Pause the whole 'I'm just worried about classes' and 'I'm tired from dance' and 'I'm fine and I don't want to talk about it' and _actually_ talk to me. You have been with, like, a dozen guys since I've met you. You've crushed on at least twice that many. And none of them have ever gotten to you like _this_. What was it, Jamie? What in god's name happened to you?”

Her glass suddenly became the most interesting thing in the entire bar; Jamie was silent as she sipped the drink and thought and tried to stop the words from bubbling over as a moment of doubt seized her. “D'you ever think about getting married?” she blurted out before she could stop herself, immediately turning bright red, covering by downing the rest of her drink.

To her surprised, Alison shrugged and nodded casually. “Yeah. It's not, like, always on my mind, but I think about it sometimes.” Instead of asking for elaboration, though, she stayed silent again, waiting for Jamie to talk.

She cleared her throat; to be fair, it _had_ been something on her mind lately, if not exactly what she had meant. “I never did. And— I mean, I'm not always going to do this party girl thing. I like it, but it's not something that lasts forever. D'you… D'you think I'd be good at being married? Like, is it something I should be thinking about? Seriously?”

“Oh, god, Jamie, no!” When she looked offended at her laugh, her best friend took her hand and explained. “Is that what he wanted? Because I _know_ it's not what you want. You're right, it's not something that lasts forever, going out and sleeping around like we do. But who gives a flying fuck? Right now, it's what makes us happy, and we're not hurting anyone by doing, so why give it up? All it would've done was make you unhappy. And if he had you thinking about _marriage_ after a night of drinks, then he _is_ as nuts as you said that morning.”

Jamie gave a sad smile. “You're right.”

“Of course I am. But you know that, as soon as you decide you're gonna make a nice little housewife out of some lucky guy, you're going to be great at it. Just, y'know, don't go picking china patterns any time soon, alright?”

Laughing, she nudged her friend under the table and squeezed her hand. “I'm so fucking lucky to have you. Thank you. I'm gonna get over him, I promise. It's just—”

But before she could go any further into her reassurances, Vince returned, looking triumphant. “Guess who has a date this weekend!”

Both of his companions dropped their jaws simultaneously. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“He’s gay?”

“Well, half.” He was beaming. “But I’m perfectly okay with that. The chick they’re with looked a little offended when she realized I wasn’t going to be asking to buy her a drink.”

Jamie scowled. “Ellie.”

“They invited us to join them.” Vince still smiled, but it became tense as he looked at Jamie; Alison’s head whipped toward her so fast it was a surprise it didn’t break. “And, um, I told them we’d be glad to come over. You don’t have to talk to him!” he said quickly when Jamie’s eyes went wide. “They’re ordering a ton of appetizers and offered to share. Alison and I can do all the talking, you can drink all you want and not say a word.”

“Vince…”

“Or you can sit there and look sexy and flirt with the guys at the table next to them— the one dressed as a nerd is totally ripped, I promise, I saw his shirt ride up!”

“Vince—”

“Pleeease?” His smile melted into an enormous pout— not trying to be manipulative, just genuinely distressed. “Jamie, he’s probably the hottest guy that’s ever agreed to go out with me. I’m begging you. I will do anything. They didn’t even say anything about the night you were over; I don’t even think they realize you’re mad at him!”

Alison gave him a look and once more squeezed Jamie's hand. “You know we don’t have to.”

There was a pause for consideration. “I know. But I came out tonight because I’m ready to be over him, and he’s not going to get to me anymore.” But still, she took one look at Vince’s face and sighed heavily. “You owe me so many bottles of vodka. Like, super-top-shelf-shipped-straight-from-Russia vodka.”

It hardly seemed possible, but his face lit up even more. “Really?”

“Yeah, I guess, really.” She took a heavy sip of Alison's drink and passed it back. “I’ll be fine,” she assured her nervous-looking friend as they started to slide out of the booth. But her courage faltered as soon as she so much as glanced at their table. “I’m just— I’m gonna duck outside for a minute. Mentally prepare myself. Tell them I’m going out for a smoke.”

Alison looked like she was uncertain about the whole thing. “Okay. But you know you don’t smoke, right?”

“Yeah, well, maybe it’s time to start, huh? Fine, tell them it’s just for fresh air, whatever, I don’t care.”

“Be careful and hurry back, alright?”

“Always.” With a tight smile, she shoved her way through the bar, straight out the door, not giving a glance over her shoulder as badly as she wanted to.

The sidewalk was full of people, dressed up in costumes that ranged from elaborate to completely half-assed, pushing and shoving their ways along, yelling and laughing and having good times. With a scowl, Jamie shouldered her way down the street, ducking into the first well-lit alley she passed. She leaned back against the brick wall, ignoring the hoots and catcalls from passers-by as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

He was nothing to her. Nothing had happened, she told herself. The dreams were just that, dreams, and nothing more. Whatever he thought he was, whatever he thought she was, none of that mattered. Jamie let out her breath and watched it cloud in the cool night. He was just a guy, and nothing more. He didn't deserve all the focus she'd been giving him and certainly wasn't worth the stress and the worry. One night, just long enough for Vince to do some flirting and have a few drinks. She could get totally hammered and not remember a thing about the night and it could all go that much smoother— That was exactly what she was going to do. Start with two drinks. There was no chance of anyone saying anything crazy, a few angry glares could shut down any conversations they tried to start with her, drinking would make it all go faster, she could flirt with the next table over, and it would be _okay._

Alright, she could do this. She squeezed her eyes shut and took one last deep breath and turned to go back—

“Jesus Christ!” Jamie snapped, stumbling back; she had come face to face with a woman in costume, wearing a deep red cape with a large hood pulled up over her head. In the streetlights, the hood cast a dark shadow over her face that Jamie couldn’t see past. “Lady, do you mind backing off a little? You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

The woman said nothing and didn’t move.

“Okay. Is there something I can help you with?”

She stood silent, staring— _probably_ staring.

“Um…” An uncertain feeling flipped her stomach, and suddenly Jamie actually wanted to be back in the bar. “Look, I’ve got two tables of people waiting for me, mind shoving off and letting me through?” A subtle hint to let it be known that someone would be waiting for her to come back.

Again she got no answer.

Jamie let out a growling sigh. “What-fucking-ever. Thanks for nothing.” She started to try and side step the woman, who finally moved: fast as lightning, she grabbed Jamie by the hair and slammed her head into the wall.

Before she could react, it happened again, and Jamie was falling; her shoulder hit the ground first, hard, and she felt the skin of her jaw break as it bounced. Small white bursts of light erupted in her vision as she rolled onto her back, staring up at the blurry sky. The wind had been knocked out of her; her face was wet, and she was crying and bleeding and it _hurt_ as she tried to say something. Completely dazed, there was no way she could bring herself to fight as she felt a hand at her throat; the light slowly dimmed, and with a gust of wind through her hair, she slipped away.


	39. Night 1

The first thing Jamie noticed when she woke was the smell; the air was cool, crisp, and clean, with the warmth of smoke coming as if from far away. The second thing she noticed was that she couldn’t see, not even a sliver of light peeking through a band thick and rough fabric wrapped around her eyes; another cut across her mouth as a painful gag, and both were tied in thick, tight knots at the base of her skull. As she tried to move her hands to tear it away, she felt heavy chains around her wrists; they were holding her numb arms up and open, the give just enough that she could almost kneel on the hard, uneven stone floor.

Panic began to set in as she tried to stand and began to struggle, fighting her restraints as hard as she could.

A hand grabbed her. Long fingers twisted in her hair, sharp nails scratched her scalp as someone tore away the blindfold and scraped her face. Jamie gasped as her eyes adjusted to the bright beams of a full moon through broken slats in the roof.

It couldn’t be called a house, she thought as her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the night sky; maybe once, years ago, it had been a house, but now the walls were broken and splintered around her, letting cold air blow through. The windows had no glass, and of the three doorways she could see, only one had a door anywhere near it, lying shattered in half on the floor nearby. A gust of wind blew up dust and dirt and leaves from the floor, rafters, swirling in small, lazy circles, the only other sounds aside from Jamie’s frantic breathing and the slow, even sound of footsteps behind her.

A shadow crossed her as the woman walked a wide circle around her, the same red cloak on her shoulders; slowly, maybe even elegantly, she drew the hood back from her face, and Jamie let out a whimper at the sight: She could have been pretty once upon a time, but that time had passed many years ago. Her black hair hung long and dirty down her back and nearly covered her face, more in kinks and knots than curls. When she shrugged off the cloak— now Jamie could see the damage to the red fabric, dirty and ragged with worn and torn hems and ripped seams— she wore leather and metal, just as old and just as battered as the cloak, which covered her like armor. Her skin was pale, nearly white with chill, smudged with mud, borderline translucent in the moonlight. Her lips were thin and raised in a snarl as she grabbed Jamie’s chin and forced their gazes to meet.

And she glared with red eyes.

The eyes of an animal.

They looked reflective, with pinprick pupils. The whites of her eyes were bloodshot, practically the same color as their irises. Jamie tried to back away, pulling against the chains as she shuffled, fell back nearly to her knees, only to be pulled back by rough hands and those sharp, broken, shards of nails.

“ _I found you!”_

Her voice cut straight through Jamie’s skin like a knife. Three simple words, hissed and laughed simultaneously, sounding thin and weak, but other-worldly and unnatural, as if giving voice to nails on a chalkboard. Goosebumps rose all over Jamie’s skin, and she whimpered fearfully before she even realized she had.

The whimper only earned her a laugh. “I found you! He tried to keep you from me, but I found you!”

Jamie tried to tear herself out of the sharp grip, but it didn’t work. In fact, she got a quick, sharp slap.

“Trying to run, aren’t you? No, no, you can’t run from me.” Her smile was Cheshire-cat-like. “I have you. I can take them now, I can take them away from you and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”

“I— I don’t have anything.” Jamie could hardly whisper as she continued to struggle. “I don’t know what you want, but I don’t have it.”

“Yes _you do_.” The giggle she had in her voice sounded nothing short of demonic. “It's in _you_ , in your _heart_ , it's in your _blood_ — it's going to be mine. I don't know how you stayed hidden for so long, but you're here now, and I've found you, and I'm going to take _everything_ from you!”

Tears began rushing down her face; nails dug into her cheek, and blood mingled with water and dripped off of her chin. “What did I do? What do you want?”

“How did you do it? How did you hide away? I looked all across the universe for you, ever corner and every crack, and you still slipped away. Neither here nor there nor there nor there… nowhere.” Her tongue ran over her teeth as she smiled. “Here. I found you here. He knew you came back, and I did, too, and we both found you, but now it's all going to be the way it should. _Now_ you're with _me_.”

Jamie pulled at the bindings on her wrists until blood ran down her arms and she finally choked out a sob and fell— nearly, as close to the ground as she could get— to her knees. “Please—”

“I'll make it fast; you can make it faster, just _give_ them to me.”

“I don't—”

“He told you not to, didn't he? He told you to keep them away from me!” She snarled and sank down in front of Jamie, eye-to-eye once more. “I'll hurt you more. I hurt you before, I'll hurt you again. He's selfish, he won't save you, he doesn't care, just _give them to me_!”

But all she could do was cry, too far beyond caring or understanding; all she could do was be afraid, weep on her knees in pain and terror as she tried to curl up in on herself. It was a nightmare come to life, and her numb mind couldn't fathom a single way to escape.

The rugged hands were almost soft on her face as she tilted Jamie's chin up to look her in the eyes. “—not now, too late, too soon,” she was saying, muttering the nonsense and glancing up at the sky. “The next moon. On the moon. Then I'll take you apart, I'll get my dues from you, just wait, _wait_.”

Giggling, the most unsettling sound Jamie had ever heard, was the only thing left as an unwelcome, unstoppable darkness of sleep overtook her.


	40. Night 2

The second night, Jamie woke up, but didn't open her eyes; if she didn't see it, then it wasn't real. The last night had only been a dream, none of it was really happening. It could only exist if she acknowledged it, even as the pain began creeping in from her arms and shoulders and back and _everything_.

A sharp 'crack' made her scream as pain blossomed across her face, and warm blood trickled down her cheek as she finally opened her now tear-filled eyes.

“No lies,” the woman whispered, close enough that Jamie could feel her breath. “I won't have your lies, playing dead, I _hear your heart_ , I _know_.”

So tired still, so hurt, so scared, all Jamie could do was whimper and nod, letting her head fall forward again.

The woman stood, and for the first time Jamie saw that her feet were practically bare, only wrapped in ratty linen like bandages, as she swept around the room. Unwilling to look up and watch, Jamie could only stare at the arrangement in front of her, lit by the dull light of the full moon:

Six white candles mad a circle in front of her, surrounding a dented and dull chalice, something like a relic she would have expected to see on an altar. Even in its state, it seemed too pretty, too ornamental for where they were, and she wondering fleetingly where it could have come from. Flowers and small bundles of leaves littered the circle— no, the flowers _joined_ the circle, helped make it, withered and dying, woven together. For a moment, her eyes lingered on a purple chrysanthemum, and she almost laughed; those were her mother's favorite, and now, seeing them in such a place, drying and rotting brown, Jamie didn't know if she'd ever be able to look at another one ever again. If there ever got to be an 'ever again'.

Again the woman returned, and fell to her knees in front of the circle. She mumbled something; Jamie jumped as all six candles roared to life, and suddenly with such a meager source of heat, became aware of how cold she was— that was okay, at least it was enough of a chill to numb her against the pain. She bit her cheeks to stop from making a single sound as she watched whatever it was supposed to be unfolding in front of her.

It stared with the leaves: she tore them away from their stems roughly, held them in the palm of her hand, and smiled more and more as she set each one on fire with no more than a glance. Jamie had to have looked horrified, because each time the woman reveled in it more and more, held the flames closer, nearly laughed as the grew bigger— and finally threw the ashes into the chalice, mumbling once more. The air smelled of burning mint, licorice, garlic, rosemary— that's for remembrance, Jamie found herself thinking, then nearly laughed at the absurdity of it. Maybe she was already going mad, too.

Any inkling to laugh died nearly instantly as she watched the woman draw a dagger from her under her cloak, bringing it straight up to Jamie's neck, making her whimper like a conditioned response. Immediately she tried to draw back, but already there was a hand in her hair holding her in place.

“Don't. Move.” The growl was so low it could hardly be heard, but Jamie froze where she was without hesitation, staring hard into those horrible red eyes—

Suddenly the blade split her jaw, running a smooth and deep line from ear to chin that sent blood dripping down her face, dripping from her chin slowly and steadily. When she tried to draw away and shout, the hand kept her there, and only then did she hear the sound of her blood hitting the metal bowl of the chalice, the sickening coppery smell of blood and the tiny 'ping' of the drops making her head go fuzzy and her body go limp.

The excitement that showed, sparkling red in the woman's eyes, was nothing short of dangerous. “Weaker and weaker,” she whispered with some kind of awe. “More, I need more, all of it— I _knew_ it, he lied and I knew it, and now he'll _pay_ , I'll make him _suffer_ as he made _me_.”

The chalice finished filling in near silence, only the sound of Jamie's raspy breathing, not even the wind stirring around them. And just before it all became too much, just as she was ready to vomit at the sight of her own blood, she watched the woman grab the cup— ignoring the still-steady drops of Jamie's blood on the floor— and stir it with her finger, muttering a quiet, “One… Two… Three...” as she did.

“You gave me this gift,” she practically cooed.

Jamie tried to look up, but her vision was going weak and her neck and back were aching, and could only give a soft sound of defeat.

“I don't forget. See? This could have ended so long ago if you'd just given in.”

With that, she raised the cup to her lips; Jamie's stomach turned and the world seemed to go upside-down in disgust and horror that made her entire body shake. Revulsion raced through her veins, sickness surged through her— but only darkness came as she passed out, the image of her captor drinking her blood burned into her mind.


	41. Night 3

It was on her own that she woke the third night, not from pain or fear. In fact, Jamie felt… stronger. As if she suddenly knew she had it in her to survive another night. And somehow freer, hardly even registering more than an ache in her entire body. She let out a tiny half-insane giggle, certain she was losing her mind, but nearly high from the lack of pain and there was nothing in her to care.

There was a groan behind her, a sound that made her lips turn up in a snarl on instinct as she turned her head to look— slowly, stiffly— knowing who she'd see, but not expecting the state she was in.

Somehow she'd gone even paler, white as a ghost and the same unsettling kind of ethereal. The dark circles surrounding her red eyes— red in iris and exhaustion— looked almost as if they'd begun creeping down her cheeks. She'd chewed her lip bloody and scratched long, thin lines across herself. Every step she took was shaky, uncertain, almost weak in the same bizarre way that Jamie felt strong. And when she finally raised a hand to Jamie's cheek, it trembled wildly, and the strike she expected never came.

“You,” she whispered, her voice as unsteady as her body, “ _lied_. You lied to me, look what you've _done._ You did this to me!”

Somehow, Jamie managed to stay solid. “ _You_ did _this_ to _me!_ I haven't done anything to you, you crazy bitch! This is all your fault!”

“How did you do it? You knew this would happen, you knew how to make me— tainted, filthy, bad blood?” She rubbed her temples hard. “You were supposed to give them to me, give them to me and it would all be good again. You gave me blood—”

“I didn't _give_ you anything, you took it from me!” She blindly lashed out as well as she could, snarling as she pulled on her bindings. “Taken from me, taking from you! You did this to yourself!”

How she knew that was a mystery, but the woman looked as shocked as she felt.

“You did all of this! Everything's been your fault! This wouldn't have happened if it weren't for you! I never would have given it, it always would have ended this way— I hope you _die_! I hope everything you've done, I hope you die because of it! It's not gonna fix you, none of my blood, nothing! And I hope you _die_ , and I hope it's because of _me_!”

A slap stung her cheek and echoed through the woods, the force of it making her ears ring like a symphony in the second it took to stare before she snapped; the chains rattled furiously until they were pulled too taught to make a sound as Jamie attacked with all she could, lunging at the woman, biting, growling even.

It only earned her another slap. “You lied! You lied, and now you're making me pay for it!”

“I did nothing!”

“It's all because of you! Everything is always because of you, since the moment it began, it's all been because of you!” A sharp kick to the gut knocked all the wind out of Jamie, and she crumbled, gasping. “How could you do this to me?! _Why_ did you do this to me?! What did I do to deserve _any of this_?!” For emphasis, she added another kick that connected straight with her shoulder, making her cry out.

“None of this was me!” she shouted back. “This is _you_ , everything that's happened has been _you_ , you brought all of this on yourself you crazy bitch!”

That earned her a kick to the face, the heady taste of iron instantly on her tongue. Jamie spat out blood and looked up, snarling as she tried to right herself. This time, though, it wasn't just a hand that cracked across her face, but sharp chips of wood, held between her fingers like a weapon, simply swept up from the floor; blood trickled down her chin.

“I'll make you pay,” the woman hissed; as she stepped closer, Jamie watched her draw a metal rod from her belt, whipping it through the air. “Until you do what I want. Until you take back what you did.” The metal turned molten red the harder she squeezed her hand, and she slowly circled until she stood behind Jamie. “I'm going to make you _regret_ , sister mine.”


	42. Night 4

The forth night, under the careful and practiced hand or her captor, Jamie wished she could just _die_.


	43. Night 5

On the fifth night, Jamie opened her eyes to see the full moon hanging above her once more. She let out a quiet whimper and let her head fall once more to her chest. There were sounds of movement surrounding her- it had to have been what woke her. She braced herself, tensing up, readying for another blow that would begin the same routine of endless pain—

“Oh, good _lord_.” Her eyes snapped open as Fox’s voice startled her and his hands grabbed her face. “She’s still alive! She’s _awake_!”

Before she could react, strong arms wrapped around her to hold her up, despite her sobs at the aching pain it brought; Don muttered quiet and gentle words in her ear to keep her calm. The chains snapped and her arms fell to her sides, but before she could scream at the pain of it, his hand was clamped over her mouth to stifle the sound.

“Can’t let her know we’re here,” he whispered apologetically as hot tears spilled down her face. “I’m sorry, Jamie, we’ll get you home as fast as we can.” He didn't seem to realize that his hand had opened the cut on her face once more.

Something was grabbing Jamie’s nearly numb hand; her head turned with loud cracks in her neck so she could watch as Ellie snapped the shackles on her wrist as easily as if they were twigs. “Fox, she’s bleeding here, too.”

Don had her in his against him easily, held up as if she were nothing; Fox was quick to wrap his hand around the bloody wrist, rubbed raw by iron, and raise it to his lips; as soon as he did, the pain slowly began to ebb, and his hands slipped away to show fresh, unmarred pink skin where the blood had been. She couldn’t help the stunned sound that escaped, even in all her terror.

“I’ll explain later,” he hissed as he began on other injuries, healing each of them with little more than a touch. “What hurts?”

Her response was muffled by Don's hand, still over her mouth, while he watched the surrounding woods with rapt attention that she only managed to break by licking his palm. “Shoulders,” she finally managed to whisper as he jerked back, wiping his hand on his pants and muttering. “And my ribs. And my back. And—”

“Everything.” She turned with a soft cry to see Cole joining them, a sword in each of his hands and a third slung across his back. “Take away the pain, make her numb, do whatever you have to do so we can move her; there isn't much time, you'll have to heal her once we get back.”

“Just a couple more—”

“ _Now_ , Fox.”

The man rolled his eyes as he placed a hand on Jamie's sternum, muttering quietly; the pain began to dull, and a warmth spread though her as she stared at him. “Just relax, it's going to be okay. Don's going to carry you, alright? We'll get you out of here, but we have to go—”

“ _If you don't come now, I'm coming over there and knocking you out_.”

She heard Don almost chuckle as Fox rolled his eyes and stepped back, just before she was lifted into Don's arms nearly effortlessly; one by one they filed past Cole and out the door, Fox pausing to grab one of the swords before he and Ellie went, side-by-side, into the woods. Directly behind them was Don, taking extra care to keep her from hitting her head on low branches or letting her hair and clothes catch in brush, while she had little more than enough energy to keep her head resting against his shoulder. Cole brought up the rear, sword at the ready, just close enough that she could watch him from the corner of her eyes.

He seemed to know she was watching him. “I'm sorry we took so long,” he said softly. “We needed to make our move at the right time, I wish it could have been sooner. I knew you were alive, I could feel it, but I didn’t…”

He trailed off, as if he wasn't sure of what he wanted to say, and Jamie didn’t have any energy in her to answer him.

“Come on,” Ellie hissed; Jamie looked to see her climbing over a fallen log, shifting her weight nervously from foot to foot as soon as she landed. “Let’s get her out of here; the less time in this place, the better. Cole first, Don pass her over— keep those swords out of the way! That's the last thing we need right now!”

She braced herself, expecting more pain as they handed her over, and tried to ignore the way she could feel Cole press his lips to the top of her head before handing her back to Don. “We'll have to see to that jaw as soon as we get back.”

“I doubt that's going to be an easy job,” Fox said, his voice only just loud enough. “That looks like it was used for something dark.”

Again Jamie could see, as if it were right in front of her, the woman raising the cup of blood to her lips; her eyes rolled back, ready to pass out again, as she felt her stomach threaten to heave.

“Whoa, sweetheart,” Don mumbled. He paused for a moment and sat her on a downed tree, their little army halting its march, so he could press her to keep her head between her knees. “Breathe, Jamie. Should we take that as confirmation on the fucked-up-ness of that particular injury?”

Nearly gasping, she dared a nod.

“Blood magic.” It wasn't so much a question or guess so much as a certainty. Fox shook his head. “Keep breathing, we don't have time to stay here like this.”

But Don didn't move them. “Maybe you should take her; you can make this stop.”

“I'm not strong enough, Soldier Boy! Just grab her and keep going before _S_ _he_ realizes we're here!”

So began an awkward maneuver of keeping Jamie half-upright as he carried her through the brush; each step was now made considerably more difficult, though, since from the words 'blood magic', Cole had all but glued himself to Don's back, eyes never flitting away from Jamie's face for even a second. He blamed himself, or at least felt overwhelmingly guilty; she couldn't help but be a bit glad of it.

“We're at about five hundred yards,” Ellie announced from the front of the caravan. “The exit's around six, start keeping eyes out; if she's laid any traps for us, this is where they'd start. Anything different, don't doubt yourself.”

Their pace slowed considerably as each began taking the most cautious steps possible; no twigs snapped, no leave crinkled, everyone even seemed to be holding their breath, until Jamie would have sworn up and down that the only sound was her heart pounding loud enough for the entire group to hear.

Suddenly, seemingly completely unprovoked, Fox stopped in his tracks, throwing out an arm to stop the group behind him. “Sh— did you hear that?”

They all froze, still as statues, for a long moment. Don was the first to move as wordlessly, he passed Jamie into Cole’s arms in exchange for his sword and smoothly drew the third from it's sheath on Cole's back without so much as a sound or hesitation. He held a finger to his lips in a silent command that was obeyed without question.

Jamie tried to hold her breath, to stop the heavy sound of her rasping; she could hear Cole’s heart pounding as her head rested against his chest, the whistle of wind through the branches, and… nothing more. But still Don stood on guard, swords poised to strike, as he moved silently across the brush. He crept further and further away, into the shadows, through the trees until she couldn’t even see his swords shining in the moonlight.

Still it was silent. Still no one moved.

It felt like forever before Fox spoke. “Don?” His hoarse whisper seemed as loud as a crack of thunder to Jamie’s ears.

There was another moment of nothing. Suddenly, sharply, Don’s voice pierced the air with the clattering ring of metal on metal. “ _Run_!” he shouted, echoing through the trees.

There wasn’t even a second’s hesitation as they started running; Cole clung to Jamie, held her to his chest so tightly it hurt. Fox slipped ahead of them, sword still at the ready, somehow still graceful as his namesake despite all the panic and fear written across his face. Somewhere behind them, Ellie was running, feet pounding the ground as she murmured and gasped for breath.

Fox yelled ahead of them a second before his weapon swung down— Jamie was too stunned to scream, even as she saw the _thing_ it connected with.

It looked almost like it was made of no more than aether, a thin, gaunt face and an emaciated body that might as well have been bones, peeking out from a cloak and armor that clung to it like black flames. It was tall, gangly, and moved swiftly as it reached out a hand to grab Fox; when his sword met its arm, they clattered and sparked as if the steel had clashed against another sword. And when it grabbed his wrist, Fox screamed as it burned his flesh with just its touch— and to his credit, that didn’t stop him from fighting back even harder.

The whole thing made Jamie’s breath catch in her throat.

“Demon,” Cole whispered simply, still running on.

The stuttered breath came out in a sob.

“No time for that,” Ellie scolded as she rushed past them. Somehow she was still completely calm and level headed as they skittered to a stop in a clearing, a perfect circle of trees as if it were waiting for them.

“Ellie—” Cole began to growl.

“Shove it!” she snapped, digging through her coat pockets frantically.

“There are more of them—!”

“I know that!”

“Getting closer—!”

“I can hear them!”

“Ellie—!”

“Fox!” she yelled over her shoulder; as soon as she called, they could hear him racing towards them, still fighting the demon. He let out a battle cry as he raced into view, threw himself in a roll over a fallen tree, and grabbed Ellie’s shoulder.

“Five of them,” he informed her breathlessly, “go!”

They were already in the tree line, getting closer fast. Cole crouched and grabbed Ellie’s other arm as she pulled out a dagger, gripped it tight with both hands, and plunged it into the ground.

Jamie finally let out a sound, some cross between a scream and a sob. The leaves whipped up wildly in the wind, funneling up in a swirling gust; dirt flew in their faces, and Jamie could only squeeze her eyes shut. The air bit her skin and burned cold, water splashed her cheeks— she was crying, or maybe Cole was crying, but it didn't matter. Either way it was all a mess, and she was so scared, and she had been so close to being home and being saved…

“Jamie?”

She was freezing. Could hardly hear him shout over the wind. But with a soft whine, she opened her eyes.

They were in snow. She looked around; it was as if the rush of wind had blown a crater in the frigid ground. Cole had let her slip from his arms, and stood above her now, a worried look on his face as he offered his hands.

“Here,” he said gently, urging her on. “C’mon, I have a coat—”

“ _Move_.” Roughly, Ellie shoved him out of the circle; Fox grabbed Jamie under the arms and dragged her along. Before he could say anything about it, Ellie grabbed a sword and stabbed the dagger into the ground; there was another rush of air and snow, and when it settled, she was gone.

Jamie trembled as she sat in the snow, unable to move and unable to speak. A heavy blanket was draped across her shoulders; Fox knelt in front of her, slowly taking his hands across each injury she had. As she watched, the bloody and bruised skin came together again tenderly, a little painfully, and drew a whimper from her; she was too numb to question how it happened.

“Don,” she finally said softly, a little thickly. “Don, we left ‘im. We left Don.”

Fox shushed her gently. “That’s why Ellie went back, okay? She took the sword, and they’ll be back together.”

She was shaking almost violently. “Don…”

Heavy arms wrapped around her. “You’re okay,” Cole whispered in her ear, “and that’s all that matters—”

“Get away from me.”

He fell into silence, but didn’t move.

“Where are we?” she finally asked through chattering teeth.

From out of nowhere, seemingly, her arms were maneuvered into a thick parka that Fox zipped before speaking. “We had to find the thinnest gap between worlds,” he explained.”It was the only way to get all five of us through. Just so happens that the nearest one is off a ski trail in the Appalachian Mountains.”

She mouthed the words, too dumbfound to speak.

“See?” Cole was in front of her again, forcing gloves on her hands. “Do you believe me now? I told—”

Jamie’s gloved hand grabbed his own, squeezing hard, as she finally looked at him with furious eyes. “If you even think,” she growled lowly, her shaking voice somehow managing to sound genuinely threatening though her fear, “about saying ‘I told you so’, I’m going to break your fucking nose.”

He seemed startled, but Fox had a noticeable smile as he knelt with them and pulled a hat onto her head. “There’s our girl,” he murmured, pulling her closer. “I have sweatpants for you, would you like them?”

They stayed in silence, Fox helping dress Jamie as Cole sat beside them giving support that was met with unhappy glares. She was cold, but it was as if she couldn’t be bothered to remember that as she tried to process everything that had happened— was happening. They had to be the ones to carry her into the tree line as the snow fell harder— meaning Fox, since she snarled if Cole so much as even looked at her— and not even the offer of a thermos of coffee or food was enough to make her move again.

“I wanna go home,” she whimpered. From a short distance, she watched as Cole began setting something around the circle they had cleared in the snow, rocks and ropes and maybe even fireworks of some kind that just made her want to leave even more.

“Soon. I promise. We're waiting.” He tried to get her to take the steaming soup he offered, but not even pressing it into her hands made her take it. “We wait one hour. If they don't come back, we're supposed to destroy the crossing and leave without them. There's still nearly forty minutes left.”

Much against her will, tears welled up in her eyes and dripped down her cheeks before she could stop them.

“They're going to be okay, and then we're getting out of here,” Fox whispered, kissing her forehead in a strangely affectionate way.

Again they fell into silence. Once more she found herself watching Cole as he moved, arranging things around the circle, preparing to destroy it if it had to come to that. With or without Ellie and Don on the other side. How could a man be so heartless? His _friends_ were there, trapped in a living hell, and he intended to leave them there if they didn't make it back on their own fast enough? Another spike of fury surged through her chest— but before she could say anything, he had stepped back, covered his face, and the rush of wind began stirring up again.

“Cole, take her,” Fox ordered as he raced over to where the mass of snow was settling around Ellie and Don; she was holding him up, yelling at the top of her lungs, “She was there! She was there, She nearly got us both, we need to hurry!” as he groaned, hardly moving as she struggled not to simply drop him on the ground, blood dripping from a wound in his stomach at an alarming speed.

Cole obeyed, running over in front of Jamie so she couldn't see what more was happening. “You don't want to see that, love.”

The look she gave him was enough to make him move back a few inches, but she said nothing.

“We're going to leave any minute now. Can you walk?”

Despite the fact he was holding her, Jamie forced herself to stand without any help, and ignored the way he braced her arms as she took a few stuttering steps forward.

“That's good,” he murmured encouragingly. “You're doing well. It's okay, we're going to help you, we're going to take care of you. I promised, didn't I? And now that you see that it's just like I said, now I won't let anything hurt—”

He was cut off by her fist connecting with his nose with a sharp 'crack'; he stumbled backwards, clutching his face, as she shrieked, “ _That was close enough_!” only seconds before her shaking knees gave out from under her. Even as he tried to reorient himself, he reached out to her, earning another flailing punch. “Don’t fucking _touch_ me!”

“Cole, knock it off.” She looked up to see Ellie shaking her head and muttering, and a completely healed Don, who grabbed Jamie and gently lowered her to the ground; his shirt was still ripped and bloody, and his face a little ashen, but otherwise she never would have known he'd been hurt.

“I’m just trying—”

“I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not working, so stop.”

Fox tried not to chuckle as he passed a coat off to Don and knelt beside Jamie. “We’ve got to go now,” he said softly. “The sooner we’re away from here, the better.”

She nodded.

“Don has to take the lead and the sword, and I have to take the other. Can you walk?”

Of course they both knew the answer to that, but still she nodded, tried to stand again, and failed.

“Cole is going to have to carry you, then.”

“I won’t let him. Don can do it.”

“Don was just half gutted, I'm putting him on light duty for a bit; nothing heavier than a sword, as per doctor's orders. It has to be Cole.”

“If he touches me I'm gonna bite him.”

He didn’t even bother to try and hide his eye roll; he stood and took Ellie aside, talking quietly for a second before finally nodding in agreement and walking back to her side together.

“Jamie, you’re going to sleep now,” he said gently, sinking back into a crouch.

Sleep— no. Every time she went to sleep, she saw the horrible dreams, she woke up in pain and torture in a never ending hell. She whimpered as Ellie placed a hand over her tired eyes. “No, please, don’t make me,” she begged, only to be quieted by gentle shushing.

“It’ll be fine,” Ellie promised. “I'll make it easy, I'll make it peaceful, I'll make it dreamless. You don't have to be scared now, and we’ll be here when you wake up. Go to sleep.”

And, much against her will, she did.


	44. Morning

It was nearly a day later before Jamie finally opened her eyes again. For the first time in what felt like years that she’d slept well, dreamless, and the first time in too long that she didn’t wake in fear. Confusion, yes, but not fear. She was in a bed that wasn’t hers— it was too big, too comfortable, and way too nice to be the stiff old thing she’d crammed into the tiny apartment— and clothes that certainly didn't belong to her— sweatpants far too big for her, and a t-shirt to match. And the walls were too bright, as she slowly cracked her eyes open, and entirely too clean to be hers. Jamie groaned as she tried to sit up; her body felt heavy and sore and practically creaked in protest. But that was the extent of it; there wasn’t a single mark on her, no sign of the hell she’d gone through. She almost wondered if it had been a dream.

“You’re awake.”

She jumped, holding back a scared scream as she turned to the voice in the corner. Where she expected to see the devil woman, though, she saw Cole, in a plush chair, folding up his reading glasses and closing a book to rest in his lap. His eyes were red, framed by dark circles, a stark contrast to the bright smile he wore as he stood and started to her side.

“Get away from me!”

Her shriek stopped him in his tracks. “Jamie— Jamie, it’s just me, okay? It’s Cole. You’re safe, understand? You’re in my house, in—”

“I know where I fucking am!” She started scrambling to get out of the covers, ignoring the protest of her aching body and hurling a pillow at him. “I told you to leave me alone! I told you I never wanted to see you again, and look what happened to me! Get away from me! Get the _fuck out of my life_ —!”

“Oh, I thought that was your lovely voice!” She turned to see Fox, a pleasant smile on his face, tone dripping with sarcasm as he came through the door. “Glad to see you up— how are things?”

“Peachy!” she snapped, glaring as Ellie followed. Don, too, was on her heels, but he stayed poised at the door as it closed behind them

Fox sat at her side, taking up the space Cole had been going towards. He pulled out a stethoscope from the bedside table and fixed it in his ears. “Let’s see how you’re doing, huh?”

“The fuck you will!” Jamie was right back to struggling again, trying to pretend she didn’t see Don’s amused look as she lost her battle with the comforter. “What makes you think I’d let you?!”

“Jamie, stop flailing—”

“You told me to trust you—!”

“And you still should—”

“Even though you’re all insane—!”

“Seriously, you were really badly hurt—”

“ _And look what fucking happened!_ ” Finally, she got him in the cheek with an elbow. “This all happened because of you _freaks_! If you’d just left me _alone_ —!”

“Okay, are we really going to do this?” Ellie gave a noise of disgust as she helped Fox right himself and rolled her eyes at Jamie. “Listen, in case you’ve forgotten the past thirty six hours, _we_ were the ones who came to rescue you. Across dimensions. With _swords._ And we just so happen to be the only people in the world who can actually tell you what the hell is happening to you. So no matter how ‘crazy’ you think we are, it’s actually in your best interest to settle down, shut up, and listen. What’d you say?”

As badly as Jamie wanted to meet her gaze and snarl, she found herself shrinking back into the pillows and staring down at her hands. “Sorry,” she mumbled grudgingly.

“It’s okay, really.” Ellie flashed a smile to the boys. “See? That’s how shit gets done. Now should we try again? Obviously you must have some questions; whatever you like, go ahead, and we’ll do our best to answer them for you.”

All of their gazes stayed fixed to Jamie; she stared down at the blankets that covered her. Her mind raced as she tried to think, to ground herself, and could do nothing more than move her lips dumbly.

“It’s hard to pick a place to start, isn’t it?”

Jamie could only nod.

“That’s okay. Take your time.”

She chewed on her lip until she tasted blood before she managed a few soft, hesitant words. “W-who was she?” she whispered.

Even though he was the furthest across the room, Cole answered; he cleared his throat and stepped forward just a little bit. “We call her the Sorceress. She had a name once, a long, long time ago, but… it seems insulting to the memory of who she was to continue using it.”

“Is she here?” Her heart raced at the thought. “Did she follow us?”

“No,” Ellie assured her quickly, resting her hand on Jamie's knee over the blankets. “No, she's trapped in that world, and I've destroyed the crossing, so she's not following us any time soon. She'll have to dismantle that entire dimension before she gets back.”

Jamie stared at her in silence.

“But… that's something we can talk more about later.”

She nodded. “Good idea.” Without any idea where to go from there, she stared at the ceiling. “So. So, everything you said, everything I called you insane for saying… it's all true then.”

“Afraid so.”

“All those dreams I've been having?”

“Memories. Of your past life. Bits and pieces, all jumbled together.”

She looked at Cole slowly, up and down. “You're in them. All of them.” It wasn't said rudely or angrily or even with any annoyance, just as a simple statement of fact. “Why?” Even though she knew the answer.

His cheeks were a little pink as he forced himself to meet her gaze. “Because in your past life, we were…”

“I need to hear you say it.”

“You… you were my wife.”

As much as she'd known it, hearing the words sent the breath rushing from her lungs, hitting her like a ton of bricks. For a moment, Jamie truly believed she would pass out, breathing shallowly as she leaned her head back and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “You were—?”

“Yes. And you were named Sapphire, and you were my wife.”

“No, no, no… No, is that why you're here? Is that why you did this to me?”

“Jamie, no, that's not—”

“Oh, god.” She was starting to hyperventilate, unable to process what he was saying or what it meant; even sitting down, the room was spinning and she was feeling light and dizzy and all she could do was gasp even though her lungs were protesting— And it suddenly rushed away, she had her control again, and jumped as she felt a hand smoothing down her hair, rubbing small circles on her back.

“It's alright,” Ellie said as she sat on the edge of the bed, smiling at Jamie's startled look. “Just breathe.”

She stared. “What—? What are you doing? How did you do that?”

“Are you sure you want to hear this? Just pile on the weird, life-altering revelations all at once?” When Jamie only continued to stare, Ellie cleared her throat. “Jamie, I'm a witch.”

“No you're not.”

“Afraid I am.”

“No, no, you're not, you can't be, that's not fucking _possible_.” She groaned, ready to feel another surge of panic in her veins, only to be surprised when it never came. All her frantic, fearful denial was cut down to nothing more than denial.

And even that had to begin fading fast when Ellie gently began rubbing the back of her neck with a smile and said, “I'm just dulling the nervousness. It's simple, really, just like bloodletting but with adrenaline and hormones. Fairly simple witchery.”

“Witchery.”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Have I been able to do this?” Ellie exchanged a look with the rest of her companions and shrugged. “Look, it's not like there's an easy way to do this, might as well just jump in headfirst.” She gave Jamie the most comforting smile she seemed to have. “Since I was about fourteen. About twenty-two… maybe we're up to twenty-three hundred years ago now.”

Jamie's eyes went wide and, had she not had Ellie's hand at her neck, she probably would have found herself breathless. “No you're not.”

“Again, yes, I am; this whole process is going to be a lot easier if you stop denying every word that comes out of my mouth.”

“While we're at it, it's not just her.” She looked up at Fox, his hands on his hips as he shrugged. “I'm thinking I'm at about two thousand now. Eh, that might still be pushing it; no less than nineteen hundred for sure, though.”

Don looked annoyed by the rapid pace of the conversation, but still gave her a smile. “About twenty-three for me, too. Hundred, I mean.”

Slowly, warily, as if moving too fast was going to make her sanity come crashing down, Jamie turned and stared across the room, eyes fixed wide on Cole; he began shifting awkwardly back and forth, not quite willing to look her right in the eyes. “Go on,” she said lowly. “Let's hear it.”

“I, ah… don't know.”

“Let's hear a rough estimate, then.”

“Um… Well, in this form… as long as humanity has given their gods faces.” And when she only continued to stare, he stuttered. “T-total, though, I think— it's hard to gauge, I-I mean, our— my— existence has been long, of course, you know, since, erm, before the universe began, after all we were the ones who made it— we— I mean _I_ was— no, I don't mean _I_ —”

“Please stop talking.”

“Gladly.” His face had gone red as he sat back down.

Ellie nodded. “Sad to say he's telling the truth. Not that it makes much sense to any of us, but that's only fair since we're just Guardians and not gods. He and the goddesses chose us,” she added as an explanation before Jamie could even ask, “to be their followers. Not quite apostles, not quite servants; I don't know, no word ever seems quite right. To watch out for and take direction from… The terminology isn't important, I guess. What matters is that all of us gave our lives to him— and, even though you probably don't want to hear this, you. We were given what basically amounts to eternal youth, to give as many years of service as we can in whatever ways we have. For me, that's witchery.”

“And I do some doctoring,” Fox cut in. “And a bit of witchery. That's how I healed you up so fast. And Soldier Boy isn't just a nickname.”

Don grinned. “I've been a soldier my entire life. Most of it's just been defending this big lug, but you'd be surprised how hard he makes it sometimes. Even though he's the actual last person who needs it.”

The last part was mumbled, and easy to ignore. For a moment, Jamie was silent, processing the information dump as she started at her feet, the only movement that of her toes under the blanket. “D’you... remember it?” she asked slowly, finally meeting Cole's eyes as she decided she needed to know more. “Whatever it was… before… _this_?”

He nodded once, simply, and stood again. “Yes. And someday you will, too.”

She watched for a moment, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn't, she tried to prompt, “What—?”

“I can’t describe it to you,” he cut her off, shaking his head. “There's no way to explain it. Someday you’ll find yourself unable to describe it, too, only able understand it in your mind. It was a different universe, a different existence; we could never find the words in this world that would come close to explaining it.”

“Try.”

He gave a little huff of a laugh, but bit his lip as he thought. “Do you remember what I told you about supernovas?”

Oh, that felt like another lifetime ago, standing on that deck and flirting innocently under the stars. Jamie thought hard for a minute before finally nodding. “Supernovas are dying stars.”

“What else?”

She shrugged.

“The stardust, remember? How it burns and blows apart and comes together again?” He held out his hand, cupped slightly, as if he could see it right there. “It's shaping the stardust, imagining how it pulls together and then watching the millennia pass in the blink of an eye and dictating the laws of its entire existence.” He smiled humorlessly. “Tell me, can you imagine that?”

She couldn't. He knew that; she didn't even bother shaking her head.

“We created the universe like that.”

“But… why?”

“For ourselves, for our own purpose.” Slowly, cautiously, he finally moved the rest of the way across the room— maybe he was waiting to see if she would snap at him again— and ended up standing at the foot of the bed. “It's another thing you simply won't be able to understand until you remember it.

“In the beginning, there were four Goddesses, each governing over a different plane: the dead, the physical, the dreams, and the in between. Together, the Goddesses made a universe where all the four existences hovered, nearly close enough to spill over into one another. And through them all ran spirit, bringing heart and consciousness to each and every one; the Undying, like aether, always existing in every plane.”

She should have been freaking out. She should have been doing _anything_ except sitting there so calmly and nodding. Thank _whoever she was supposed to thank now_ for Ellie's hand. “Souls.”

“Yes.”

“So Sapphire was…?”

“The goddess of the In Between.”

Slightly, she shook her head. “I don’t know what that means.”

“In between alive and dead.” This time it was Ellie who answered. “Like a person in a coma, imagine. Not alive, not dead, but still the soul stays. Christians would call it Purgatory, but even that’s inaccurate. For a soul to be in the In Between is for the soul to be happy, to have a good existence, only to be too weak to return to the physical plane, or too determined to succumb to the plane of the dead.”

Jamie's blood ran cold; her hands began to shake at the very thought. “When you say dead, you mean hell, don’t you?”

Fox grinned. “She’s a smart one.”

“You mean all dead souls go to hell?”

“Oh.” They all exchanged looks before Ellie elaborated. “That is what it sounded like, isn’t it?”

Cole shook his head. “No. Jamie, I’m the creator of spirits, the commander of souls. Most souls are reborn, given a second chance of sorts, over and over again. Some have been the greatest good they could ever be, some have suffered a life more terrible than anyone could ever deserve; they pass to the dream plane—”

“Heaven?” she guessed.

“In a way, but it’s something even greater; again, it's just something that can't be put into words, but someday you _will_ understand. And the worst souls, the most broken and ruined of them, are kept for eternity on the plane of the dead, where they can ever escape, never return to any other existence.” His eyes darkened, as if just thinking about it was a weight on his shoulders. “I suppose it’s only fitting that their goddess would turn out as mad as they are. It makes sense, though; she’s the one who has to feel their entire existence, everything they’ve been and ever will be.”

For a second time, Jamie took it all in, tried to understand it as well as she could, and commit the information to memory, even though she was sure there was no way she would remember it all. “And then,” she continued once she had her bearings again, “after she went insane, she decided that she wanted me?”

Don nodded. “Yes.”

“But not _you_ specifically,” Ellie quickly corrected. “Not you as you lay here right now. You as you were in your past life; you in your first life and your first body, as the goddess Sapphire.”

She must have looked incredibly scared, because Cole dared to rest his hand on her foot, and she couldn't deny that it was actually comforting. “What— What happened to her? To Sapphire?”

There was a moment where they all seemed to falter, as if none of them wanted to be the first to say it, before Cole cleared his throat. “The Sorceress killed you,” he said; his voice was soft, and she could hear the tightness in his throat, surprising her enough that she didn't have it in her to correct him. “And the other goddesses. She took you to an Otherworld, like the one she took you to this time, and held you there, one at a time.” It seemed like there were tears in his eyes and a lump in his throat, but he swallowed hard and forced himself to keep speaking. “You were the last; she killed you, right in front of me, and tried to use your blood in a ritual to try and take your powers. She didn't get the chance— I didn't let her.”

Her voice was just as soft. “Powers?”

“Over water, and the winter, and the souls of the In Between— one fourth of the world is yours. And the Sorceress wanted all of it. To destroy it, she seemed to think, would be a _cleanse_. As if it could make things better.” He shrugged gently. “Like I said, she went mad.”

“Did she go after you?”

For some reason, the question made him blush. “She can't. I'm… Um, I'm the one true immortal.”

The look on her face was decidedly unimpressed.

“I wish I were lying, really I do, but it's the truth. Spirits can never die, no matter what form they end up taking, and as the living embodiment of spirit it just… happens to be that I can't die. She can't try her rituals, she can't hold the threat of death over me, and she knows it. So she leaves me be.”

“I… don't know if I should believe you,” she said slowly.

“Would you like me to prove it to you?”

“Another time,” Don cut in, “when it won't be such a pain to clean up, alright? Keep going, there's still something kind of important you have to get to.”

“Right, of course.” Hesitantly he settled onto the foot of the bed. “Jamie, there's a reason we found you; why we tried to help you, why we need you to remember. A reason for all of this.”

Even forced to be calm, she felt her heart skip a beat and forced a nod.

“It's not an easy thing to ask, but it's all we can do. It's the only way that we can save her, or all of creation...” His eyes went soft. “She has to die. It's the human part of her that's broken; once that body dies, and the spirit is reborn, everything will be right again. Her death is the only way to save her.

Her mouth was dry. “And you… want _me…_ to kill her.”

All of them nodded.

“I can't.”

“You can.”

“You have to,” Don cut in. “But we're going to teach you. Ellie's going to help you with the memories, I'll help you learn to fight, Fox… he does that healing thing, which I guess is going to come in handy. We're going to help you. But all we know is that _it has to be you_.”

Fox nodded. “None of your sisters have ever been able to. Cole can't. But now you're here, _finally_ you've come back, so it only stands to reason that you're the one who has to kill her.”

All she could do was blink at them. “Oh, is that all?”

“Actually...” She glared at Cole, who gave her an apologetic look. “I have to ask you this, and even in spite of everything that's happened to you as of late, it's going to sound a bit strange. I just need you to answer as well as you can, okay?”

“If you're trying to be comforting, stop. You're bad at it.”

With a ghost of a chuckle, he squeezed her leg. “Jamie: do you know where you've been?”

She furrowed her brow. “You mean that, what'd you call it? Otherworld?”

“No, before that. Before _here_.”

“Boston?”

“Before this life, Jamie.”

“I-I thought… you said that I was—”

“Sapphire, goddess incarnate, and you are, but we're… sort of _missing time_.” It was the first time she had seen him looking genuinely lost. “Jamie, my wife was killed more than three centuries ago, closer to four now than not. And for reasons that none of us can explain or comprehend, we haven't seen any sign of your rebirth until _now_ , until _you_. And when you were born, it was instinctual, you have to understand; I woke up and I knew you were alive, and it was practically easy to find you then. But if you were going through other lives those four hundred years, we never sensed you, never found you, and we need to know what happened to you. What made _now_ the time for you to come back.”

A moment of thought and she shook her head. “I don't remember anything.”

“Nothing weak, not even something like… like watching a film of someone else's life?”

“No, it's just...” She frowned. “Why does it matter? I don't know if I want to remember, if it's all going to end like Sapphire's.”

There was a second's hesitation where he looked like he was going to press the issue further, but Ellie shook her head almost immeasurably and he didn't even say a word.

“Maybe,” Fox cut in, “now would be a good time to get some more sleep, huh? A lot's going on, and I'll bet you're still at least a bit tired, and god knows throwing this all at you doesn't help anything.”

Nodding a little, Jamie smiled up at him. “So we do say that, then? 'God knows', 'thank god'— 'cause if we don't, I'm going to have to totally restructure my vocabulary.”

“Asking the important questions; this is why I always liked you. C'mon.” With Ellie's help, he urged her down again and pulled a blanket up to her chin. “Stay warm; we've got a hell of a December chill coming in off the water.”

When she froze, it took a minute for him to notice.

“Jamie? Everything alright?”

She stared blankly up at him.

“What is it?” Cole was at her side in a split second. “What's wrong?”

Her eyes widened in horror. “December?” she finally managed in a slow voice. “What do you mean, _December_? It was just _Halloween_.”

“Oh.” Fox nodded slowly. “Well, yes. For you, it was.”

“For _me_?”

“It was, like, four days for you, wasn't it?”

“It wasn't four days _for me_ , it was four fucking days!”

“Not exactly.” He smiled sheepishly. “Ah, the Otherworlds are a little bit _off_. Like how it was only ever night there, did you notice that?” She glared. “I guess not. Well, see, time passed slower where you were. So while you were there for days… it was a bit more than a month here. It's December.”

To prove it, Don passed her a stack of papers— a newspaper that had been sitting next to the armchair— and pointed to the upper corner. “This is yesterday's, actually.” And there it was, in tiny black print: _December_.

“Oh, god.”

“Jamie?”

“Oh my god, it's December.”

“It's not so bad.”

“I missed more than a _month_.”

“You're just a little shaken...”

“A month of school...”

“It's okay!”

“Classes...”

“I know it sounds bad,” Fox said quickly, “but it’s really not. We did everything perfectly to make sure no one questioned you not being around; we told them you had mono. Ellie used her witchery to make your parents and your roommates and your teachers think they’d been talking to you, and that after Halloween you'd come back here and woken up so sick you couldn't leave— you’ve been withdrawn from your classes without penalty because of illness, and you’ll have to make up the credits at some point, but everything’s been completely worked out and you’ll be—”

“ _December_.”

“It’s been worked out, I promise—“

“I missed…”

“A lot, yes, but nothing you can’t make up—“

“… _my dance concert_.”

Her look of horror was quickly matched by the four surrounding faces. Cole cleared his throat. “Ah. Yes. Well. Um. We… we honestly hadn’t thought about that. I’m sure— I mean, I’d have to assume that they— the professors we talked to about your classes— must have worked it out and either cut your dances or replaced you—“

“Please stop.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m… I’m going to go back to sleep. Where things make sense.” She rubbed her eyes and sighed. “This is basically what I have to look forward to now, isn't it? Complete and utter chaos and weirdness every hour of every day?”

Ellie chuckled. “Afraid so. Cole? Would you like to take over here? I'm going to go get us something to eat.”

Jamie was admittedly surprised to see Cole take her place, his hand on the back of her neck, and the calm still washing over her. “Anything a witch can do,” he said with a small smile, “I can usually do. At least for a little bit.”

She returned the smile. “So what now?” she asked. “I guess I don't really have much of a choice now, do I? You guys...” It almost pained her physically to say it. “You guys were right. So… what do I do?”

Fox pulled the blankets up to cover her the rest of the way. “You need time to recover,” Fox said softly, brushing her hair back affectionately. “In a couple of days, we'll take you back to your apartment, and Vince and Alison are going to help you get home.”

“Wh—? Home? You're sending me home? After all of that?”

“Go home for Christmas, Jamie. Be with your family, be happy. Let them fuss over you and coddle and spoil you, think you’re still sick. The disasters can wait a week or two until you get back, and you need it. You just went through hell and back, and it's not going to be easy when you come back here; promise me you’ll do that.”

She paused, uncertain, but nodded. “Why? What’s going to happen after? When I get back?”

Cole's smile turned solemn as he took her hand, his eyes distant as he traced the swirling lines on her palm. For a second, he almost seemed at peace before he set his jaw hard and shook his head. He said nothing, but his thumb rubbed small circles over the back of her hand, and he hummed a low, unfamiliar song deep in his chest that managed to lull her into a light sleep at his side. She heard the footsteps of his— _their_ — Guardians leave the room one by one until it was just him and her, and as much as she hated him at the moment— hated that he was right, that she had gone through so much because of him, hated that he had turned her world upside down and didn't seem even slightly fazed by it— there was something entirely too comforting about their position to send him away. Instead, she let a real, heavy sleep drown her, pulling her under where the real world couldn't touch her, at least for a little while longer.

Jamie never got her answer. She wasn’t sure she really wanted one.


	45. New Year's Eve

“I hate long drives alone,” Jamie announced as she came barging through the front door, dropping her fancy bags of luggage where she stood. “They give me too much time to think about how much of an inadequate human being I am.”

Don didn’t even look up from where he was reading on the couch. “So you had a good break, then?”

“It was great, how was yours?”

He grinned. “Much more low-key than the weeks leading up to it.” He set his book aside and got up, looking at the bags. “Did you take the bus here with all of this?”

“I have a car now!” She held up a set of keys with a beaming smile. “My grandmother let me buy it off of her. I mean, it’s ancient, high mileage, low gas mileage, but I’ve got a car!”

“Congratulations!” He hugged her and took her coat, hanging it by the door. “You can have the room you’ve always been crashing in. I can help you take them up, if you’d like?”

“If they’re not in the way, I think I’ll just take care of them in the morning.” She rolled her shoulders with a loud crack that made him grimace. “Long day, lots of driving— I just want to relax a little bit. I’m stiff in ways you couldn’t even imagine.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Have you eaten yet?”

She shook her head as he led her to the kitchen. “What’ve you got?”

Peeking into the fridge, he rattled off, “Six types of Chinese, a couple boxes of Italian, some Thai, a bit of Mexican, and fried… On second thought, I wouldn’t trust those anymore, I think that’s from when you were missing.”

“Y’know, on second thought, I think I’ll pass.”

“There’s shortbread cookies in the pantry.”

“Now that I like.” She skipped around him and found the box, jumped up on the counter, and started eating them by the handful as she looked him over; Don was almost dressed up, as if he’d been putting too much effort into looking casual. “You look nice.”

“Really?” The way he fussed with his sweater and flattened and re-rustled his hair told her all she needed to know. “Are you sure?”

“I promise. You’re on your way out with Vince?”

“Yup.” The grin seemed to come to his face before he even realized it. “He wants to introduce me to a bar near your apartment, have some champagne, count in the New Year, and I’ll probably crash with him for the night.”

“The Roadhouse?”

“That’s the one.”

“You’ll love it, they make strong drinks for cheap.”

He seemed to like the idea. “What about you?”

Jamie shrugged. “Alison asked me to go out with her to check out a place she discovered while I was home, but I think I’d rather stay in with Netflix. I just drove from Virginia to Boston; all I can really do is crash right now.”

“Really?” He gave her a look. “So why are you here and not at your apartment?”

She barked a laugh. “Seriously? Okay, I could stay here on the couch and watch TV, welcoming in the new year with a quiet drink; or I could huddle up in my room on my tiny bed with my laptop and painful earbuds trying to avoid listening to you with Vince and Alison with whatever man-whore she picks up tonight as you all screw in the new year.”

“Point taken.” He smiled as he pulled on his coat. “Ellie and Fox and Cole left about an hour ago while I was in the shower, so you should have the house to yourself. Don’t worry about locking up before you go to bed; Ellie has all her protections set up, so we’d be the only ones coming and going. We have a fresh stock of spirits in the cabinet and a few bottles of Christmas wine in the dining room, so crack open whichever ones you’d like.” He snapped on a pair of earmuffs. “And if you change your mind and you won’t want to be alone, you can always tag along late.” Don waved and wished a quiet, “Happy New Year, Jamie,” before he vanished into the hall; she heard him grab his keys and felt the gust of freezing wind before he closed the door behind him.

Jamie waited a few minutes until the air warmed up a little bit and lazily shuffled her way from the counter to the liquor cabinet, cookies still in hand, trying to remember which bag she’d packed her fluffiest blanket in. It all seemed ridiculously normal: she was mixing hot chocolate on a cold snowy night, staying in and watching movies. For all of the recent nights where it felt like the world was ending— literally— the quiet and calm felt completely out of place.

But, well, gift horses and all that. Instead of questioning the relaxing warm feeling and undoubtedly urging chaos to come faster, Jamie grinned and lined up bottles, pouring a shot of Kahlua, butterscotch schnapps, whipped cream vodka, and a white chocolate liqueur into her hot chocolate. Tonight, the end of the world could wait.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to get my hands on you,” she murmured lovingly to the hot chocolate as she walked carefully back into the living room, eyes down to watch every step and be sure she wouldn’t spill—

“Oh!”

Stopping in her tracks, Jamie looked up to see Cole, sitting right where Don had been when she’d walked in, laid out with a blanket and a book; there was a cup of tea on the table, next to a plate with crackers and what looked like a whole honeycomb, his glasses were on the tip of his nose, and his face was the definition of surprise. As, she imagined, hers was, too.

“What— what are you doing here?” he asked.

“I’m, um.” She pointed to the mug, the couch and the TV. “Getting cozy. Don said you were out with Ellie and Fox.”

“I was going to go. And I changed my mind. He probably didn’t see the light on in my office. I thought you were…?”

“Going out? I, well, I was. I mean, when I first talked about it. But, um, no. Don and Vince have a date, and Alison is grabbing the first guy who buys her a drink and taking him home. The walls are, uh, pretty thin. It wasn’t how I wanted to spend the night.”

They stared at each other for a moment, each painfully aware that this was the first time they’d been left completely alone together and unsure how to address it.

“Can I sit?” she finally asked, watching as he scrambled to move his feet from the cushion so she had a place. “I know you're reading, but you don’t—? I mean, would you mind if I put something—?”

“A movie on? No, no, please, go ahead. Make yourself, um, comfortable, please. I want you— I’d like you to feel at home here.” His cheeks were a bit red. Hers probably were, too. “Is there something you were hoping to watch? A particular movie? Or what have you?”

She shrugged and sipped her drink, turning on the TV and XBox and waiting for them both to boot up. “I, uh, usually just flip through until I find something I like. And if I don’t, I just, y’know… lower my standards and try again.” She sipped her drink. “It’s basically exactly the same as going to the bar, just without the makeup.”

“Ah.” A pause. “If I might make a suggestion, _M*A*S*H_ is always worth a watch. It stays funny even after a several re-watches.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen a couple episodes. Might be good.” Even as she said it, though, she was waiting for it to load, trying to relax back into the couch. It wasn’t easy. Actually, neither of them seemed to be capable of relaxing in the presence of the other. Even when they tried to talk, it didn’t get any better, not even a half hour of cautious chuckling made it easier.

“So, uh… my parents were asking about you.”

He visibly struggled to hide his surprise. “Y-you told them about me?”

She smacked her lips. “Nope. No, not a word, not a single, solitary word.”

“So they…?”

“I was having a, um, nightmare. A couple. Actually.”

“The memories?”

“That’s them. And, uh, I guess before I woke up screaming, I was kind of… crying. And yelling your name.”

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

There was a tense silence between them for a long few minutes.

“What did you tell them?” he asked slowly.

Jamie bit her lip. “That you were the guy who took care of me when I got mono and crashed at his house.”

“And the…?”

“Dreams, no. They asked if I wanted to talk about it, I said no, they didn’t press, and I didn’t elaborate.” She sipped her drink and gave a satisfied nod. “They’re good parents. I like them as much as I love them. They sent presents, too, by the way. For all of you guys. For taking care of me. I think Zoe— my little sister— did, too, but it's, like, a forth-grade-homemade kind of gift.”

“Oh.” Another long pause. “That was nice of them. I'm sure whatever she made is… charming.”

Comfortable silence, wasn’t that what everyone always talked about wanting from their friends and partners? Being able to sit there in complete silence for hours or days or whatever ridiculous thing, not saying anything and more than happy to be that way. Whatever they were had to be a million miles away from that. Three and a half hours they watched episode after episode, and neither moved a muscle the entire time. There was a single five minute break where Jamie poured a second drink and Cole ducked off to the bathroom. As soon as they’d both returned, another episode began and they fell into the same uncomfortable, stiff, awkward silence. It was only after another twenty five minutes that Jamie finally spoke. “I thought you said this was _funny_.”

He seemed shocked to hear her voice. “F—? It is funny. You’ve been laughing at it for hours.” Although in the tense quiet she’d only really been smiling, letting the occasional chuckle through cautiously.

“Yeah, well, this is depressing.” She tossed the controller aside and stood, pleasantly buzzed and ready for another drink. “Promise me the next one’s better, because that is _not_ how I want to ring in the New Year.” A new year. A terrifying year. A year she still wasn’t convinced she’d live through. “I’m going to have enough stuff getting me down for the next 365 days, I don’t need anything extra to kick it all off.” The room took a moment to align in her vision; her balance was a little off— good. It was the kind of airy buzz she’d been hoping for; after the clock struck twelve, she’d curl up on the couch and fall straight asleep, and that was all she wanted.

Cole looked like he was seriously considering something for a moment as he watched her fill the mug with milk and chocolate syrup and place it in the microwave. “Do you ever regret it?”

“Well that’s random and vague.”

“I mean, leaving the ballet. Coming here. Meeting us.”

“Less vague, still random.”

“Do you?”

“Of course.” She gave him a little almost-smile. “Dancing is everything to me. I never felt more alive than when I was dancing, thousands of people there just because they wanted to watch me. It was… I don’t know what it was. But I loved it.” The microwave beeped; she took the mug and began mixing in spirits. “Meeting you guys got me a destiny that I didn’t ask for. All I wanted was to dance. Of course I regret it.”

The next thing she knew, he was taking a bottle from her and setting it on the counter, only to cautiously take her hands and lead her back to the living room. “You love dancing. It makes you happy. So… dance with me. I know I’m not the ideal partner, and there’s certainly someone you’d rather be with, but maybe it’ll be a little something to make a good start.” He was a little rushed, speaking faster and faster, obviously nervous and clearly unsure of what he was doing. “You don’t have to, I just thought perhaps it would be something to cheer you up a little bit since as you said that last episode was a little depressing, I’m sorry, I’m not very good at spontaneity—”

“Do you ever shut up?” With a little bit of a smile, she placed one of his hands on her hip and took the other in her grasp; she draped her free hand on his shoulder. “I think that’s a very sweet idea. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He was blushing, but he was smiling. “Would you like me to put on some music?”

“Nope. Sing.”

“Me?”

“Is there anyone else in this house?”

“I don’t know any—”

“You’re as old as time itself, suck it up and start singing.”

“I’m not very good.”

Her eyes rolled so much it almost hurt. “You can hum. Just do it.”

He fell silent; Jamie sighed, about ready to berate him again, when she heard his voice soft in her ear. “ _So little time to tell you_ ,” he sang, voice hardly more than a whisper, _“so many things I meant to; where did the summer go?_ ”

It sort of tickled, his breath hitting just behind her ear as she started a slow sway, leading him gently. “See, told you; you don’t totally suck at this.”

He huffed a laugh and cleared his throat. “Should I continue?”

“Yes please.”

Again he hummed the first few slow lines, giving her a chance to start their dance again before he sang, “ _With still so much to say_ … _Songs that I meant to sing you, praises and pearls to fling you, roses that I forgot to bring you…”_

Cole’s voice rumbled in his chest so that Jamie could feel it where they touched. Her head rested in the crook of his neck as she stared out the window; a gentle snowfall had started. It was strangely peaceful, not as uncomfortable as she would have imagined; an unusual intimacy that felt genuinely comfortable.

 _“I still long to hold you, embrace you, enfold you. But somehow I never, ever told you._ ”

It was a light song, loving and simple, but it almost seemed to have heaviness to it. Words that he’d been saving for a long time, waiting for the right moment. As beautiful as they were to hear, it made her heart ache.

“ _Where did it go, this lifetime? Hurrying by, how did it fly away? Leaving so little time to tell you so many things I’d always meant… to… say…”_

The song trailed off into silence, but still the dance went on. A few moments of silence, just before she was about to bring them to a stop, again he began the soft song again, pulling her a little closer and holding a little tighter. He sang to the end, and then again, there and still again, over and over without pause. They danced until there were fireworks outside the windows and cheers echoed through the streets, until the New Year had come; until the night had fallen silent, and the dark had taken over once again.

And still they danced on.


	46. Second Semester

Meeting with the head of the dance department was a conflicting experience for anyone who went through it. On one hand, here was a man who could hold a person's fate in the palm of his hand, with access to an entire database of grades and work, a man who could hold a degree in the balance. A man who made you wait with his assistant, sitting outside of his office for what felt like forever until he was _ready_ to meet.

On the other hand, here was also a man who couldn't be bothered to run a comb through his greying hair more than twice. Dr. Richard Varga wore sweaters a size too big so that he had to roll up the sleeves to keep them from covering his hands. His mug of tea seemed to be a permanent extension of his arm, and his shoes— loafers he'd probably owned for six years— were usually anywhere but his feet.

So when Jamie sat at his desk, ready to discuss making up her entire missed semester, she couldn't help but switch between horrified at the thought of the work ahead, and amused by the sight of Dr. Varga with his feet in fluffy wool socks propped up on his desk. “Hell of a winter we're having, huh?” he chuckled, tossing a teabag in the garbage.

Hands wrapped in gloves as well as her scarf and hat and still numbly cold, Jamie nodded stiffly. “It's something alright.”

“I'll tell you, last week, I was convinced my tires were going to freeze to the road. It happened to me before, you know, when I lived in Alaska. That was the same year I found a headless walrus in my back yard.”

“I've heard the story.” The man could talk like the world was ending, and most days she could be at least mostly polite, but today her stress levels were absolutely astronomical, and she was in no way going to suffer whatever story he was ready to tell, no matter how rude it made her sound.

“It's one of my favorites; I bet everyone in this department could tell it word for word.”

“I'm sure. Sir, I don't mean to interrupt—” although she totally did “—but I'm really worried about my classes last semester, and I wanted to talk this through with you and see what I'd have to do to make it all up.”

“Right, right, mono, wasn't it?” Under a pile of papers, he found a manila folder— with her name across the top, now that was terrifying— and flipped it open. “Your friends brought me a few copies of the doctor's note. Nasty case, too. They said you weren't even home?”

“I got sick at a friend's house,” she said, hoping her voice didn't sound as small as she felt. “Didn't have the energy.”

“And no one wants you to end up with a burst spleen.”

“I appreciate it.” For a very stressful few minutes, Dr. Varga flipped through the papers, circling things she couldn't see until she was just about ready to shake out of her skin with nerves. “Usually, there wouldn't be much I could do,” he finally said, sitting back and closing the folder. “Missing that many classes _and_ the final performances is a big hurtle to overcome.”

She felt a lump in her throat before he'd even finished his sentence.

“Luckily for you, these were special circumstances.” Dr. Varga smiled wide. “People get sick, you're not the first, we've gone through this before. We're going to get everything sorted so that you don't have to retake any classes or pay extra. It's not like you chose to get too sick to leave your bed after the withdrawal period; we can make this work.”

Her relief was obvious as she sank back into the chair.

“You'll likely end up taking the exams you missed and making up some of the more major assignments you missed, which I'll have to coordinate with you professors outside of the department, but you have nothing to worry about.”

“What about dance?” she blurted out.

He chuckled. “Has your doctor approved you to return to the studio?”

“Yeah, but that's not what I'm worried about.” When he stared, she blushed. “I can't take any exams to make up for my dance classes, and— and I missed the _concert_ —!”

For some reason, that prompted him to laugh. “I'm sorry,” he said, “I was just surprised it took you so long to bring it up at all. Almost as surprised as I was that you didn't drag yourself to the show, regardless of doctor's orders— which I should thank you for, by the way. We had enough chaos without having to spare hands to physically remove you from the show.” He laughed, but she blushed harder; it was funny, but mostly because— had it actually been mono keeping her away— it was exactly what would have happened. “You can do your piece in the spring concert.”

“Oh, god, thank you.”

“As for making up the classes, we had a discussion— your other professors and I— and had an idea to run by you.”

“Anything.”

“Admission auditions are coming up, three in the next three months. Usually we have a post-grad volunteer teach a combination or lead a dance class; instead, we'd have you lead the choreography, ballet and modern, with us observing the potential students. It should make the process easier for everyone, your professors can grade your work as well, and we can show you off to our potential candidates. Sort of a guest teacher, I guess. It doesn't have to be something new, but something original would be great. How does it sound?”

“I'll do it!” As if there was a question.

“Excellent! I'm sure there's a few professors who are going to be very thankful to hear that— auditions are the bane of our existence.” He shrugged and sighed, pausing to get up and pour more hot water into his teacup. “Not that we don't love teaching, sometimes I wish I had a few more studios anymore, but I'm sure you'll find out soon that it's tedious, and no one likes giving up their Saturday mornings.”

“If three Saturdays is the price to pay to make up my grades, I'll survive.”

“Very good to hear; you've always had such a positive outlook every time I talk to you.” Subtly, she began slowly pulling on her coat and gloves, afraid of getting horribly caught up in another endless story. “There's so many people in this department who'd let this get them down, but you're just pleased to have a chance to keep dancing, aren't you? It's very refreshing.”

“I'm glad you think so much of me.” Cautiously, she pulled on her scarf. “I hate to cut this short, but I do have a studio—”

“Ah, you're off to Contemporary, aren't you? With Nora, I think, I'm pretty sure she's the only one with an advanced class at this time.”

“Yeah, with N— Ms. Saxon, and I really need to get going, she's not fun when you're late, and the building is two blocks away.” But she was already standing and pushing her chair in, even though he hadn't made any indication that he was going to stop talking.

“I know ballet is your thing, but she really speaks highly of you; she'd never play favorites, but I think you're one of her favorites. It's always fun to have a student like you, when we can just say something and suddenly you're dancing it—”

“Thank you! It means a lot, I'll talk to you later, Dr. Varga!” At last he stood, but Jamie was already slipping out the door, biting her cheeks to keep from laughing, positive that if she gave him a chance to say goodbye, they'd still have another fifteen minutes to their conversation. He was a talker, and meetings with him were all kinds of terrifying, but he was a funny man. Laughing to herself, Jamie bundled up a little bit more and stepped out into the street, rolling her eyes; if she _was_ late, there was no doubt everyone would be completely understanding.

“Hey! Hey, Anderson, slow down, wait up!”

Although she really wasn't going that fast, Jamie slowed down and turned, a grin spreading across her face as she saw Ira skipping his way down the sidewalk, pulling a few impressive moves to avoid knocking into any pedestrians, and taking a running start to grab her in a massive hug. “What, are you running away from me?”

“Never!” she squealed as he spun her around in a bone-crushing hug, ignoring her bag as it hit him before he set her down. “You look fantastic!” And he really did; the senior dance major was dressed up to look almost professional, if she ignored the way his tie was loose around his neck. “I haven't seen you in forever!”

“I know! Not since last year! I was gonna catch up with you and your roommates over winter break, but I heard you went home.”

She nodded and shrugged and started walking again as he fell into step beside her. “Spent the last half of last semester down and out with mono; it was a good idea to get a little extra rest in before this all started up again.”

“Prob'ly for the best.”

“What's got you looking so fancy?”

“I just had to make my senior presentation proposal.” He grinned. “They loved it.”

“Of course they did.”

“Now the only problem is finding someone who would do my pas de trois with me in the Senior Synthesis part of the spring concert at the end of the year.” He threw an arm around her shoulders. “I just have _no idea_ where I can even _start_ to look. If _only_ I knew some _wildly talented_ ballerina who couldn't say no to the spotlight.”

Jamie still smiled, but groaned. “Aw, Ira, c'mon, I'm not that bad!”

“Are you telling me you'd actually turn this down?”

“Maybe!” He laughed, but she gave him a serious look. “No, like, actually! I've got—” _the world crashing down around me and people who insist I'm the only one who's going to be able to save it?_ “—a full load on classes, and I'll be making up stuff that I lost credits on last semester, and I do have my own dance for the spring concert since I didn't get to perform in the winter one!”

“That's nothing!”

“Seriously?”

“Alright, no, but you should at least think about it!” She stopped at her building; he turned around as he kept walking, giving her puppy dog eyes. “Just think about it, okay? Just think about it for a couple days, tell me what I have to do to win you over, and I'll do it, alright?!”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I'll think about it!” she called as he got nearer to the corner.

“Think and do!”

“ _Maybe_!” He laughed and waved as he disappeared into the crowd, and Jamie could only roll her eyes.

“Hey!” An arm came around her shoulder from behind; she flinched, but turned it into a hug as she turned to see Sadie walking at her side. “Was that Ira you were yelling at? What the hell was that all about?”

She shrugged. “Looks like I'm gonna be in Ira's Senior Synth piece.”

“Oh, lucky bitch!”

“Hey!”

“Totally meant that as a compliment. He's one of the hottest, best dancers in the entire department!”

“Great kisser, too, in case you were wondering.” To Sadie's startled and awed look, she could only grin. “Couple times last year. Hop on that, if you ever get a chance, you'll be glad you did.”

“I absolutely hate you.”

“Hey, he's up for a little tryst with anyone who can keep up with him on the dance floor and make him laugh in the green room; true story, word for word. It sounds a hell of a lot sexier when he says it though. Master of pillow talk, that man.”

“Stop before I spontaneously combust.” She dramatically fanned herself, eyes rolling back. “I'm not going to be able to be in the same room as him if you keep this up.”

“Blush enough when you see him and he takes it as a challenge. I'm just helping you out. I'm a wing-man for the both of you!”

“Any friendly advice?”

“He gives a damn good foot rub.”

She sighed. “And I'm dead. Damn, if he's that good, why aren't you hooking up with him?”

Jamie shrugged and kept her eyes forward. “Variety is the spice of life,” she said, the most non-committal answer she could come up with.

“Oh, bullshit! 'Variety' only matters if what you have is shit; that's the most non-committal answer I've ever heard.”

“Well, I mean, first, y'know, there was summer break,” she fumbled, suddenly drawing a blank for all of the completely real and sensible reasons she'd had. “And, like, there was so much shit going on last semester— even before I got sick! And now...” She trailed off and was left staring at Sadie in awkward silence as her friend waited expectantly, shaking her head at the nod that seemed to ask if she wanted to jump in.

“Not buying it,” she said, making Jamie groan. “I know you. You don't give up good sex with a great dancer for no good reason. _Maybe_ if there were a chance for better sex, but nothing else. Are you getting regularly laid by someone hotter than Ira? I demand explicit details, and I mean as graphic as you can get.”

“I'm not getting regularly laid!”

“As long as I've known you, you've never not been getting laid.”

“It's—! It's—! It's complicated, okay?!”

“Elaborate.”

“For the first time, I have more to be concerned about than the frequency at which I'm getting banged!”

“With which.”

“Shove your English minor up your perky little ass. I just met with the head of the freaking department to discuss every-fucking-thing that I missed and that I have to make up! Shit, I might as well be taking a double course load! And now Ira wants me to dance for him, and I'm—! Still exhausted from being sick! When, exactly, would I be getting fantastically banged?”

Sadie shrugged and sighed. “I guess I see your point. And, I suppose, from all womankind, I should thank you for not infecting Ira with your plague. Any day we don't get to look at that freaking god-among-men is a day wasted.” With an oh-so-wistful sound and a distant look in her eye, she glanced over her shoulder, as if she could still catch one more glimpse of the long gone man. “Well, after class, I still expect some more explicit dirt on Ira. Need something to fantasize about until I finally score.”

“I'd be more than happy to share. Now _those_ are memories I'm happy to revisit.”

“As opposed to…?”

“Erm, different train of thought.” Grinning, Jamie grabbed the door to the dance building and threw it open. “How out of shape are you?”

“Let's put it this way: not as bad as you. However, you have an excuse, and we're walking into the studio with the most notorious contemporary professor in the university.” She sighed and led the way to the studio. “This is gonna hurt.”


	47. Scotland

_He looked like a work of art— well, maybe. A bit. Just enough and just not enough. He stood, back to her, looking out over the ocean as the wind whipped up his hair and cloak and the grass at his feet, sharp enough to bring tears to her eyes that blurred the edges of the world. Like a fuzzy, faded, breathtaking work of art. Like the fading impression of a memory._

_But rather than bask too much in her awe— he would never let her hear the end of it if he caught her staring again— she launched herself up the hill, giving a joyful shout of warning just before jumping onto his back._

_He went straight down with a surprised huff, and she followed, waving her arm to keep the jar in her hand from getting crushed between them._

_“I'm back,” she giggled, kissing his cheek before rolling off of him and sitting cross-legged in the grass._

_“I can tell.” Breathlessly laughing, he rolled onto his back, smiling up to where she grinned next to him. “You look fairly pleased. Good news?”_

_“I hardly know or care.” At his confusion, she presented the jar she'd returned with. “I found something I thought you might like.”_

_The look in his eyes would have suggested she'd presented him with a chest of treasures instead of the small clay pot, but he took it in his hands with the same reverence. Rather than admire the gift, he leaned in close and kissed her, hands in her hair, not even thinking about letting her go until she giggled._

_“You haven't even seen what it is!” she teased, shoving him playfully_

_“I don't need to to know it's wonderful.”_

_“Don't be daft! See what it is!”_

_Obediently, if not a tad reluctantly, he let go and sat back— not without one playful tug of hair— and carefully opened the jar. “You brought me honeycomb!”_

_“Yes. But better. Try it!”_

_As delicately as he could, he picked up the comb with two fingers and bit into it, looking up with surprised eyes and a smile._

_“It's from a hive in a heather field,” she explained as she wiped a sticky drip from his chin with her thumb; hardly wanting it to go to waste, she sucked it away before continuing. “It's good, isn't it? Stronger and smokier.”_

_“It's absolutely excellent,” he said earnestly. She couldn't help but laugh again as he ran his finger along the rim of the jar and took another taste. “Where did you get this?”_

_“The market. A woman whose husband is a farmer has a field that he can't afford to sow; the heather grew over, and the bees built a hive, and now she sells their honey. Clever woman, wonderful little thing.”_

_He looked ecstatic, for reasons she couldn't explain and honestly wouldn't want to. “Come here,” he said, moving closer. “You're so unspeakably wonderful to me.”_

_She had nothing to say to that, only smiled as she leaned in to kiss him and accept the offer of a taste of honey._ _It became his favorite; she'd never been more pleased to see anyone eating such a sweet with such a smile every single time._


	48. Training

It was early one weekend when Jamie woke to the sight of Fox, his face inches from her own, grinning almost madly as he poked her repeatedly. Swearing, she rolled over, pulling the blankets with her and throwing the pillow over her head. He responded in kind by dragging the blanket completely off the bed; when she turned to glare, he was still grinning.

“Fuck, Fox,” she grumbled, grabbing her phone and checking the time. “Jesus, it's not even seven!”

He grabbed the pillow, engaging a brief tug-of-war before grabbing it away. “Don's summoning you.”

“I though _I_ was the one who was supposed to be commanding _you_?”

“Aww, aren't you cute.” Still smiling, he turned to the windows and began pulling up all the blinds, letting the dull morning light in and making her groan. “Up and at 'em! You've got a long day ahead of you.”

“The hell I do!” Finally she sat up, back cracking, and glared at him through a messy curtain of hair. “It's Saturday.”

“You know the days of the week, very good!”

“I'm so not getting out of bed this early.”

He gave her a look on his way out of the room, muttering something about, “We'll see about that,” as he left. Jamie could hear his footsteps down the hall, down the stairs… for a moment, she considered getting the blanket and pillows, but decided it was too much effort and rolled over on the bare bed and closed her eyes.

By her count, it wasn't even five minutes later that the smell of apples and cinnamon began drifting into the room; Jamie dragged herself downstairs and accepted a plate of pancakes from Ellie, but it was all done grudgingly and with a sour, tired look on her face.

The Guardians waited until she'd eaten one pancake and had half a cup of coffee before anyone tried talk to her again.

“So,” Fox ever so cautiously said, “how'd you sleep?”

She didn't answer, but glared over the rim of her coffee cup. “I slept fine. Why aren't you guys talking to me?”

“I'm talking to you! Just wanted to wait for you to get started on your coffee!”

“You never do that.”

“Thought it might be nice!”

“That just makes me suspicious.”

Don grimaced from the doorway. “Probably rightly so. We're starting training today.”

“No.”

They seemed to be expecting that. “Why not?”

“I'm not _training!_ It's Saturday, are you out of your puny minds? I have homework that I need to do, and I'm going to _sleep_ the entire rest of the day!”

No one seemed especially bothered by the declaration. “I can handle the homework,” Ellie called over her shoulder at the sink.

Jamie choked on her coffee, sputtering as it came out of her nose; mornings were basically always the worst, and it just kept going and going. “That's plagiarism! I could be expelled for that if anyone ever found out!”

Ellie made a face. “I'm a witch who's been serving a god for thousands of years. If I can't make a few over-worked, uncaring liberal studies professors think the work they have is yours, I should just hand myself over to the Sorceress and call it quits, because I've officially outlived my usefulness.”

Don snickered as he set down his coffee cup and nudged her shoulder. “Up and at 'em. Get dressed; don't bother showering.”

“Make me.”

“I can get Cole down here.”

“Please, what's he going to do?” And for the first time, she realized he wasn't in the room. “Where the hell is he, anyways?”

“Sleeping.”

Blood pressure sky-rocketing, she rubbed her temples to calm down. “He gets to sleep in?”

“I'm sorry, he didn't miss out on _three hundred_ _years_ of weapons training, so it's kind of all your own fault.”

“Yeah, that's a good idea, rile me up and then put deadly weapons in my hands.”

“Come _on_.” Ellie rolled her eyes and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her up to her room. “Are we _really_ going to do this? Didn't we decide it was easier to stop arguing with everything we tell you to do and just do it?”

The damned voice of reason stayed outside her door— Jamie could tell, her shadow visible on the floor just under the crack of the door— until she emerged in work out clothes, brows furrowed in such a glare that it wouldn't have surprised anyone if it froze that way, and allowed herself to be maneuvered out into the backyard. Don was waiting there, two fleece jackets draped over the porch, but probably unnecessary since it was so warm— which was weird, since just over the fence, there was a healthy covering of snow over everything.

He looked a bit proud as she stared. “It's super useful to keep a witch in the house: total property climate control. This whole place still looks totally snow-covered and miserable from the outside, even to us, but in the yard it's a comfortable, manageable, seventy-three degrees. Perfect for a bit of combat training.”

“What if I wanted to build a snowman?”

She was pleased to see it shocked him. “Then… Then go to the front of the house.” Before she could take it as a suggestion, Ellie ducked back inside and locked the door, earning her a snarl from Jamie and a laugh from Don.

“Fine. I'm here. I'm miserable, but I'm here.”

“And I appreciate that.”

“So what hell are we going to go through?”

He sighed and shook his head. “I was hoping for a bit more enthusiasm, but whatever. I'm going to teach you every weapon I know until we find the one that suits you best. Then we'll work on polishing your skills from there.”

That didn't sound entirely awful. “So what're we starting with?”

“Four sets of fifty push ups.”

She stared, eyebrow raised, unimpressed. “No, seriously.”

“Yes, seriously.”

“But actually.”

Instead of saying anything, he raised an eyebrow to match her expression until she realized he meant it— and her face fell into a mix of confusion and what could only be called intense despair.

“Don.”

“Jamie.”

“You're out of your mind.”

“You're learning to be a soldier. I'm going to teach you like I'd teach any of my soldiers. That starts with building up your strength and stamina. If you'd like, we can alternate push ups and crunches.”

“Build up?! Like I haven't spent—?!”

“Shhhhh...” Holding a finger to his lips, he shushed her until she was pursing her lips together, looking very much like she was about to grab that finger and break it backwards just to hear him scream. The smug smile he had only made it that much worse. “Now,” he said, just before she was about to bite off that finger, “Drop and give me _fifty_.”

When she didn't, he grinned even wider. “Then your options are eighty crunches, or we'll run three miles.”

While all were disgusting prospects, doubly so on a Saturday morning, at least she knew she had the stamina for an easy jog. Not saying a word, she tightened her laces, snatched one of the fleeces, and started out of the yard. Her iPod was in her purse, but going to get it would have felt like showing weakness, and she refused to give him that satisfaction.

Then again, it would have been a welcome distraction from the voice at her heels, giving a critical analysis of her form.

“I'm going to push you in front of a car!” she shouted over her shoulder.

“If you go faster, you won't be able to hear me!”

“But homicide would be so much easier,” she grumbled to herself. Of course, that risked jail time, a trial she couldn't afford, probably some ire from Vince… it wasn't really worth it, she decided as she ran a bit faster, taking care to kick a good-sized rock in his direction as she did.

It was petty. But it felt good to hear him curse and stumble before he could yell at her again.


	49. Silk

“So this is your office.”

Cole looked up, a little surprised to be addressed as Jamie walked into the old fashioned room, pushing aside his papers and folders and folding up his glasses as he sat back in a tall black chair. “Good morning. Yes, this is it.”

“You must be an early riser, already going through that much work.” She took her time looking around before sitting in the chair in front of his desk.

“Maybe I’m crazy, but I always thought you would be, too.”

“I used to be, when I had to be in the studio by 8.” She shrugged. “I’m using college to catch up on all those years I missed out on sleeping in.”

In silence, they watched each other for a moment.

“So the whole universe is run from this desk, huh?”

He laughed a little, fondly patting the top of the old polished wood. “No, actually. This is where the whole of history classes are decided.”

“So where is it you run the universe from? On the couch in front of the TV?”

“I don’t actually run the universe, you know. Just because it was created in part by me doesn’t mean I control it; it’s a lot of sitting back and letting it play out.” He rolled his eyes. “Believe me, there are some days I regret that decision, but it’s a bit late now. Free will is a great thing, but it turns out that there are sections of humanity that are absolutely terrible at using it well.”

“Yeah, damn those pathetic humans,” Jamie deadpanned with a tiny smirk. She propped her feet up, waiting to see if he would say anything; it looked like it took some effort, but he said nothing, only glanced over occasionally as he opened his computer. “Doing anything interesting, then?”

“Grades; hardly interesting but a sad necessity.”

“Aw, now don't say that; if you didn't have to care about peoples' grades, you never would have had me over and set this whole disaster into motion.” She sipped her coffee. “I think that counts as interesting.”

“Not that I don't enjoy my time with you, but is there something I can help you with?”

“I'm just looking around. Getting to know the place I'll be spending all my time in.” For a few minutes, her eyes scanned the room, picking out little details that might give a bit of insight into his personality— for all the impact he'd had on her, she knew surprisingly little about him. There was a wall of books and a couch nearby, presumably for reading. The telescope had been brought in from the cold, set up by the window, looking like it hadn't been touched in quite awhile. A yoga mat, a small pile of boardgames, a few figurines of mice here or there, all sorts of tiny hints that said little but still seemed immensely charming to her. “That’s a lot of pictures.”

Cole followed her gaze to a large chest of file drawers, the top of which was covered completely in picture frames; the pictures they held varied from almost recent to practically ancient, probably from the very invention of photography. He smiled and walked over to take one and examine it. “These are your sisters.”

She nearly argued, but settled for rolling her eyes as she accepted the frame and looked at the picture: a strong young woman with very visible muscles, dark skin only a few shades lighter than her curly, wonderfully untamed hair, stood with a beaming smile to the camera at the edge of a cliff. Her eyes sparkled green with laughter, almost unnaturally so. She was hooking up climbing equipment between her and a tree; Jamie could see the back of Fox’s head just in frame, identifiable by his blonde unruly ponytail. “She’s beautiful.”

“Her name was Esmeralda when you knew her.”

The name and face suddenly clicked; she saw, racing through memories that she still denied as her own, the Earth goddess she once had been, green eyes bright and smile always beaming.

“That was taken about nine years ago. Her name was Asha; she was from Cote d'Ivoire, and she was twenty two there.”

There was a heaviness of guilt to his voice that told Jamie everything she needed to know, but still she asked: “And?”

“The Sorceress killed her about six weeks after that photo was taken.”

Her face filled half of the pictures on the shelves; Jamie took a picture featuring the other girl and looked it over carefully. She was a tan younger woman, her thick hair braided into a crown around her head, and a lacy, soft vintage dress slipped off of her shoulders and showed her curves perfectly. It was a little grainy, posed, but she was hopelessly breathtaking regardless.

Jamie couldn’t stop staring at her eyes, so light they were practically white.

“Her name was Almas in your life. That was the late sixties; she was a bit of a hippie.”

“Where are they now?”

“Adelaide, Australia and Bauru, Brazil.” He smiled. “Lexi and Emilia, they’re called now; thirteen and eight. Beautiful, incredible girls.”

“Shouldn’t you be there? Or have people there, watching out for them?

He shook his head sadly. “They won’t remember. They never do, until they turn twenty, until the dreams start again. Sure, they’ll have the one, just like you did, but the real memories— twenty years. Always twenty, to the day; it’s some sort of magic. Ellie tries to explain it, but I can’t say it’s in my realm of understanding. Almas, she knew the magics, inside and out.” He smiled sadly. “She’s tried to explain it, too, actually, in several different lifetimes. But I guess it’s just not for me to comprehend. They're all her own doing, anyways.”

There was a surprising fear in her chest for these girls that Jamie had never met. Hushed, she asked, “What if the Sorceress goes after them?”

“She won’t.”

“What’s stopping her?”

“You, of course.” He ignored her look of shock and ran a hand through his hair. “You were the one she was waiting for. You are her last battle— we’ve all always known it. This won’t be like the other times. You waited centuries for this. She waited until you had the memories to go after you. She didn’t just slaughter you, she tried to take the powers from you— and might have spent forever trying if we hadn’t come for you. And when the time comes, she’ll meet you in a real, honest combat. No cheap trickery, no honorless attacks.” She felt his hand brush lightly at the ends of her hair, as if he wanted to be affectionate but forced himself back. “They’re safe. By the time she finally works her way back to this plane, she would never give up how far she’s come to go after you just to go after children.”

Jamie swallowed hard. “And let’s say, y’know, if I win this—”

“ _When_.”

She’d gotten too sick of his corrections to do anything but let it slide and roll her eyes. “—this ‘battle’, is there—? I mean, would I get to meet them?”

It was surprising to see him smile so happily. “Absolutely. We’d seek them out, just as we did for you, and be there for the memories. I’m sure they’d be completely thrilled to see you again after all this time.” The smile turned into a smirk. “They’ve always been much more accepting of us, generally speaking, than you were. They have so many lifetimes to draw from, and never such a huge gap in years from death to rebirth. It’s practically down to a science now. Actually,” he added thoughtfully, “I think we became a little spoiled; it’s probably why we expected you to take it so much better.”

Rather than dwell too much on the thought, Jamie looked back at the pictures in her hands. “She— Alm— Em— her. She was blind? Every time?”

He chuckled, earning himself a dirty look. “No, she wasn’t, that was just the color of her eyes. Almas; it means ‘diamond’ in Arabic.”

She scrunched her nose and scowled. “Really?”

“What?”

“They named her ‘diamond’ after her eyes? Are you serious?”

“Well, for one, it wasn’t just her.”

Jamie snorted. “You’re actually trying to tell me that we— _they_ , I mean, they— were named after rocks? Goddesses of all creation, most powerful women in all of existence, and they were named after _rocks?_ ”

“No!” He blushed a little and rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually, they were named after you.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“I’m not! Sapphire, Esmeralda, Almas, and… Lali.” He swallowed hard; the Sorceress’ name was hard for him to say, even after all this time. “Sapphires, obviously, emeralds, diamonds, and rubies. Coals, too, actually. They were named for the eyes of the gods. Eyes so inhumanly beautiful—”

“That is so unbelievably cheesy.”

“But it’s the truth.”

“I certainly didn’t inherit that trait. Thought you said I looked exactly like her.”

There was a split second’s hesitation. “Come here.” Cole held out a hand, which she accepted, and led her to a mirror. “The eyes are the windows to the soul, have you heard that? I want you to close your eyes.” Which she did, tensing up when he held her shoulders firmly. “Do you remember Kashgar? It was summer, during a drought; they had been begging their gods for rain for weeks before we finally reached them. It was so impossibly hot, but you had to be covered from head to toe because of your fair skin, even a scarf to shade your face.”

_She could feel it invade her sense, more and more with each word out of his mouth. Jamie felt the itch of rough, dirty linen over her arms, shoulder, back, neck, feeling like she was going to burst into flames any moment— but still, even with the sun beating down on her, there was a merciful breeze that made it bearable. A lumbering animal was beneath her, led by a familiar man with black hair— long and curled, more blended with the crowd— parted the waves of people through a bazaar. There was a stink of heat and hundreds of people pressed together, animals and quickly spoiling food, mixed with heavy spices and salt that filled so many of the stalls they passed._

“People in the streets were suffering, dying. We passed bodies covered in linen just waiting to be buried, but in the middle of the day there was just no way they could be taken out of the city. But the only thing we could do was pass them; I could see the way it broke your heart, being unable to help them.” He gave a tiny huff of a laugh. “I think you tried to make us go faster. The horse tried to push through the crowd, hit my shoulder with his nose a few times.”

_The ache in her chest was real; there they were, clear as day, bodies piled back in alleys, an attempt at keeping them out of sight when there was really no way to ignore them. A little sooner, a little more rain, a few more lives could have been saved. Any of the buildings lining the streets could have any number more. Her ankles kicked into the sides of the horse; he tried to speed up, and the hand on his reins stopped him before he could trample the crowd. Both the horse and the rider gave small, annoyed sounds, though hers was far more distressed. Jamie found herself making the same sound, as if it could change the memory somehow._

Cole’s voice was gentle as he continued, rubbing small circles with his thumbs on her shoulders to sooth her. “There was a man selling silks— real silk, it was one of the first times we’d ever seen such a thing. His stall was covered completely in the smoothest scarves in the deepest, most incredible colors. I don’t know how he made them, even to this day.”

_She could see it behind her eyelids. All of the colors of the sky, all the waves of the ocean, every leaf of a forest, all the thousand flickers of a flame, hanging from the rickety wooden booth he’d probably built himself._

“He brought me one,” she said suddenly. Cole’s hands tensed on her shoulders; she heard his nearly inaudible sharp intake of breath. “He saw me staring and he brought me one. It was like— like water and air rushing through my fingers at the same time.” She found her hands were moving slowly, imagining she held it again, feeling it as if the silk were still in her grasp.

“It was midnight blue. I tried to pay him, but he refused, said there was no way he would take money from the woman who would save them.” Jamie heard the words in her head, a language she didn’t know but somehow understood. “I asked what he meant, and he said—”

“My eyes.” She swallowed hard. “He said the silk was the color of my eyes. And who could have such eyes except the one who would bring them the rain.”

His breath was on the back of her neck as he pulled the hair away from her face. After a moment of silence, he whispered gently in her ear, “Look at yourself, Jamie.”

Eyes, midnight blue and fathoms deep, opened slowly and looked back at her in the mirror. Her own eyes. Inhuman and ancient, out of place on her young face. For a second, she stared into her own eyes, watching surprised tears slide down her face.

And then the instant was broken, the second passed, and Jamie’s eyes blinked back again.

“It’s undeniable,” he said softly, meeting her hesitant gaze in the mirror. “It’s in your eyes, Jamie, it’s in your memories, and S _he_ is in you. Someday, you'll know yourself completely, every part of your life, and then, then you'll have Her eyes. You'll really be _you_.”

Trying not to let him see how much it shook her, she slipped from his hands, grabbing her coffee from his desk. “Shout if you need anything,” she muttered, voice breaking a little. She started to the hall as fast as she could, but stopped just before closing the door behind her.

He’d slipped back into his chair, arms rested on the desk and hands clasped tightly. There was one more picture frame on his desk, and he looked at it with a loving and longing smile.

The door clicked softly as she shut it. Somehow she knew whose portrait was behind the frame. She couldn’t even begin to understand why it made her heart ache.


	50. Ira's Studio

“Anderson!” Ira's voice echoed as she stepped into the studio and rolled her eyes at him. “I knew you couldn't resist me!”

“Yeah,” a girl with bright red hair scoffed from where she stretched on the floor. “ _That's_ why she's here. Is that the size of your ego compensating for something, maybe?”

It just made him laugh as he hugged Jamie and turned to the girl. “Jamie Anderson, Nadia Kuhlman. Anderson, as I'm sure you know, is some kind of god among men when it comes to ballet.” And though it was a joke, and he had no idea what he was saying, Jamie's heart skipped a beat and her stomach did a flip. “And Nadia is the single best modern dancer in our entire year. Department, even.”

“I know,” both girls said as Nadia stood and they exchanged a handshake.

“I've seen you in shows here; you're seriously good,” Jamie said warmly.

Nadia grinned. “I looked you up on YouTube the day word got out you were coming here. You're not half bad yourself.”

“And somehow we're both working with this clown.”

Ira groaned and held his hand over his heart. “That hurts, ladies. Ow, that really stings.”

Nadia elbowed him in the ribs as she walked past to grab a pair of toe undies from her bag. “Shut up and dance, dumbass.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He grinned and nodded for Jamie to join him, which she did just as soon as she'd pulled on her pointes. “It's called 'Bright Lights and Cityscapes.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Not surprised.” Holding her by the shoulders, he positioned her in front of the mirrors and went to do the same to Nadia. “It's going to be a love triangle; Nadia doing modern, Anderson doing ballet— you'll be the protagonist, like the singer— and me going between styles with both of you.”

Nadia rolled her eyes, but did it with a smile. “I know it's probably been done a zillion times, but I like it.”

“Me, too.” She rolled her toes and pulled into a soft releve a few times. “Don't worry, Ira, we can make this one of the best damn dances this university has ever seen.”

It had to say something that he didn't look even the least bit worried as he finished setting up the music and joined them on the floor. “I know it will be. Ready now? This is how it's going to start.” A click of the remote turned on the music, Ira ronde de jambed to Jaime's side, giving instructions for each beat, mirroring as she followed the orders, and together they slowly began to dance.


	51. Sleep Easily

_The sky was on fire, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it; her sisters held hands, fire and earth fracturing together as smoke filled the air and choked the people—_

Jamie woke with a terrified gasp, clasping one hand over her mouth while the other grabbed at her throat out of fear. When she realized she could still breathe, that the air was clean and thin, she let out a relieved sigh, nearly a sob, as she sat up, holding her face in her hands.

Every night it felt more real. Jamie shivered as her bare feet hit the hardwood floor, shuffling out of her room and out into the dark, quiet house. Every night it was more and more of a relief to find herself still in her bed, and every night she was more and more scared than the last.

She flipped on a small kitchen light and opened the fridge; just like when she was little, she poured a bowl of cereal and sat at the counter, slowly eating alone in the dark.

They were becoming more real, and they were all leading to the same ending. All these memories would end, undeniably, in death. And she was going to feel it, more and more real, just like the rest of Sapphire’s life. She’d feel herself taken and tortured and killed— as if once in her life wasn’t already enough—

Suddenly, her stomach flipped, and the bowl of cereal wasn’t feeling like such a good idea anymore.

Rather than let it turn her stomach any more, she threw it out and went back upstairs.

Halfway up the stairs, Jamie heard a pitiful whimper; she stopped in her tracks and listened. It was followed by another, and a soft cry, a loud gasp as if they couldn’t breathe. She took the stairs two at a time and reached the hall as a bedroom light flipped on.

As quietly as she could, she opened the door, peeking in to see Cold sitting up in his bed, rubbing his eyes with a shaking hand.

He must have heard the door open, because he loudly grumbled, “Leave me now or I’ll banish you to an Otherworld until the end of eternity.”

Jamie scowled. “Shit, fine. Sorry for caring.” Rolling her eyes, she started to close the door.

“Wait.”

She did, opening the door just an inch. He was staring, his hands had fallen away from his face, and he was clearly surprised.

“I thought you were Don or Ellie or Fox—”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

“What—? Why’re you up?”

She shrugged. “Bad dreams. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Me, too.”

“I know. I heard you when I was on the stairs.”

“Oh.” He stared awkwardly; she stared back. “Are you going back—?”

“Don’t know how I could sleep. Food didn’t help, and I’m still wide awake.”

“Want to borrow a book?”

“At 4 am.?” She shook her head. “I’ll just be reading gibberish if I try.”

There was an almost hopeful look in his eyes; Cole reached for a book beside his bed and nodded to the pillow beside him. “I could read to you. If you’d like. It might help you relax a little bit.”

“That… depends.” Jamie chewed on her lip; her stomach flipped again, but this time not from fear. “What book are we talking about?”

He smiled and held it up. “ _Life, the Universe, and Everything_.”

“I’ve never even heard of it.” She stepped a few cautious steps into the room and stood next to the bed. “Is it any good?”

“I like it well enough; Douglas Adams is always good for a laugh.”

“Much more of a _Hobbit_ fan myself. My dad used to read it to me when I couldn't sleep.” But after a moment, she shrugged. “Why not. I mean, I might as well try, right?”

“Might as well.” The smile refused to fade as he watched her climb into the bed, curling up with her head on the pillow. “Comfy?”

“Yep.”

“Would you like the blanket?”

“If you’re offering.”

Cole pulled the blanket up and around her and settled back against the headboard with his book open to the first page. “The regular early morning yell of horror,” he began in a soft voice, “was the sound of Arthur Dent waking up and suddenly remembering where he was.” Jamie snorted; he chuckled. “It wasn’t just that the cave was cold, it wasn’t just that it was damp and smelly. It was that the cave was in the middle of Islington and there wasn’t a bus due for two million years…”

He had a warm, comforting tone, just like the voice she'd fallen for what seemed like a lifetime ago. All of Jamie’s fears were slowly lulled away with every word. And once the pound of her heart had slowed, the butterflies began to vanish; once every butterfly had flown away, the gentle ebb and flow of his voice had her closing her eyes. She reached for his hand, ready to thank him and say good night and return to her own room, but her hand hardly twitched and she was completely unable— and unwilling— to make a sound much above a mumble.

But he seemed to understand. Cole stopped reading; she heard the book close, felt the bed shift, and the light clicked off.

With a soft sigh, she fell asleep.

When she woke up in the morning, it was with a bit of a smile as she smelled the coffee and breakfast downstairs, and opened her eyes to see her hands clasped in his.


	52. Spears

“Just promise you’ll be careful,” Jamie said through gritted teeth, flinching as she felt Fox’s hands on her back.

Cole sighed, letting go of her shoulder just long enough to brush hair from her face. “You said you’ve done this before.”

“Once. Ages ago! When I was in Europe!”

“Too late to back out now.” She couldn’t see Fox’s face, but imagined it was turned in an impatient scowl. “Okay, you know how when you go to the doctor and you need a shot, they say they'll count to three, and then they jab you on two so you're not all tense and it doesn't hurt?”

She gave him a nervous look over her shoulder, trying to relax for the count. “Yeah?”

Unceremoniously he shoved her shoulder back into its socket; Jamie screamed. “I like my way better.”

“Fucking hell!” She glared at him, tears in her eyes, but one touch from Ellie already had the pain slipping away.

“It had to be done! Blame the guy who dislocated it in the first place!”

Jamie glared even harder over Cole’s shoulder at Don, keeping his usual guard at the door with a sheepish look. “Hey, I said I was sorry!”

“I’m not learning spears anymore,” she answered flatly. “And certainly not by fighting you.”

“You have to! You’re getting… well, I mean, you’re not _awful_ anymore…”

“I tried to block, and you dislocated my shoulder. _No_ , Don!” She rolled the shoulder cautiously. “From now on, we’re doing this my way!”

“Alright, good, so your way is going to be dying then?”

“Do you really want to sass me right now? ‘Cause I’ve still got two daggers on me that would hurt like a bitch if I stabbed you with them.”

“Alright,” Cole said, stepping between them with a forced smile. “Don, may I make a suggestion?”

Don gave a huff and a frustrated toss of his hands in Jamie's general direction.

Cole seemed to take that as a go-ahead. “You're approaching this all wrong.”

In return, Don made a high pitched sound of disbelief, giving him wide eyes.

“Hear me out! Jamie.” He turned as he spoke. “Stand at attention.”

With a roll of her eyes, she did just that, heels coming together easily and hands lightly clasped in front of her; judging by the wild sound Don made and accompanying hand gestures, it wasn't what he wanted to see.

“She's standing like a fucking penguin!” he snapped.

“I'm standing like a fucking ballerina!” she snapped in return.

Both fell silent with a single look from Cole. “She's standing like a ballerina,” he said calmly, “because that's exactly what she is: she's a dancer. Rather than working against it, it's something you need to use. That's the way she's always been, remember? Nothing brute and unsophisticated; since the beginning, she's been grace and serenity.” He smiled a little and looked a bit distant, as if he were caught up in the memory. “She gave them Tai Chi and Coperia, and Kalaripayattu, millennia before you. Do you remember what she told us once? “A warrior who cannot dance will be awkward both at war and in peace.”” Somehow he missed Jamie's snarl as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Use it, like you did before. She's still exactly the same as she used to be, you just have to help her _remember_.”

Don seemed sated at last, if not grudgingly, and sighed to go off and grab another two types of swords. Jamie took the opportunity to follow him, sharply shrugging away Cole's touch and snapping a quick, “Fuck off.”

He was startled enough to grab her wrist with a horrified look; again she shook him off, ending with him grabbing the blade at the end of her spear, but he paid no mind as his hand began bleeding. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, fuck off.”

“What?”

“Fuck. Off.” Her face flamed red, and even though her voice was steady, her hand was clenched in a fist and shaking. “We don't need you. Go be useless somewhere else and let Don do whatever the hell he wants.”

“A second ago, you were ready to run him through with that sword.”

“Yeah, well, what-fucking-ever.” Without any further words or explanation, she walked off in a huff, leaving behind a stunned trio exchanging confused and horrified looks as they watched.


	53. Just Jamie

Her calm, quiet evening was not going white the way Jamie had wanted.

The house was completely silent, which usually would have been appreciated since she was working to finish assignments for five classes, the least of which was three pages and seven questions long. There was no music to distract her, no TV from the other room, no footsteps above her on the second floor or even cars passing in front of the house. Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse— they were all most assuredly too completely terrified to so much as breathe, because the tension in the house was _palpable_ and nothing short of suffocating.

No one had said a word to her since she'd come in from her morning of training, and even Don had treated her with kid gloves after her snap. It was as if they were waiting for something to happen, on edge and ready for her to kill one of them and they probably wouldn't have been even remotely surprised if she'd stabbed the first one to approach her. Whatever it was, she rolled her eyes, wishing for the hundredth time that they'd just _get over it_ so she could focus and maybe even actually finish her work.

Annoyed and frustrated, she slammed a book closed, startling someone in the other room so badly she heard them jump and hit the table, and closed her eyes, rubbing her temples as she forced herself to breathe. Excellent, all of it, what a wonderful fucking evening she was having.

Twenty minutes later, when all she'd managed to do was glare at the ceiling with a pencil in her hand and a book on her lap, a door opened and closed somewhere in the house; Cole's footsteps were unmistakeable as he left his office, taking his time to walk into the kitchen, fuss around with something, and stand right where she knew he could see into the living room. He was staring at her, she could feel it, trying to decide what he was going to do or if she was going to say something.

He was going to be waiting a long time if he thought she'd make the first move.

And he eventually seemed to realize that. Sighing heavily, he closed the distance between them and looked down over her.

“Any chance you want to explain what that was about?” Cole's voice was annoyingly calm and collected.

She gave him a sour look that served as her answer.

“I'm serious. I thought we were getting along again.” Sighing, shook his head. “I thought you almost liked me, I daresay. I mean, between New Years and that bad dream the other night...” He stiffened. “But perhaps I just misunderstood.”

Slowly, not giving her more than a glance, he started for the door; guilt and tension all built up in her chest ended up sending the words tumbling out of her before she could stop them. “I do like you.”

That stopped him, but he didn't look at her just yet.

“I don't, y'know, _like_ like you, but… You're not a bad guy. And I like spending time with you. And you're… _familiar_.”

“So why are you acting like I'm the last person in the world you want to be around?”

“I dunno,” she mumbled, even though she knew full well why. And when he didn't press for her to elaborate, she tried to keep her mouth shut until the silence was nearly physically painful. “They all know what I was to you. You and her— you and me. And I'm afraid they are— and _you_ are— gonna forget that I'm not Sapphire, and seeing you being all _coddling_ and sweet and talking about me like I'm your dead wife makes 'em think everything's the same, and that I'm her and not me, and sometimes it's like you don't even realize you're talking about a completely different person. You lump the two of us together like you don't even care that she's gone and I'm here— I don't wanna lose who I am, and if I'm all bitter and bitchy, _especially_ to you, then no one can go treating me like I'm someone I'm not.”

Finally, he looked at her over his shoulder and, seeing that what she said was genuine, turned around and leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I don't want to _be_ anyone else.” She couldn't seem to stop herself. “I'm me, I'm just _Jamie_ , but you look at me and you see what you think I used to be. I can't live up to that, I don't _want_ to live up to that! I don't want to lose myself because I don't know how long I have to be me, okay? You said that I'm becoming _Sapphire_ , so what if that means that there's going to be a day when I'm not me anymore? I don't want that! I like who I am, I like being Jamie, and I don't want you to think that I'm anyone else, and I don't want you to look at me and treat me like anything other than what I am!”

Her voice had started shaking, and she was breathing heavily, but he didn't seem fazed, only continued to watch her. Surely he was thinking it through, maybe trying to understand, but all there was to do was watch each other.

After a moment, he nodded. “Good night, Jamie,” was all he said before slipping out of the room.

Heart sinking, Jamie turned around and pulled her knees up to her chin as she sank back into the couch. He was mad; all she'd wanted to do was tell him the truth, and the truth made him mad. It wasn't that unbelievable, was it, that she wanted to keep as much of herself as she could for as long as she could? It was _reasonable_ , even if she went about reminding him of it in the wrong way… and reasonable had made him mad. She shouldn't have felt so bad about it. But that was the only thing she felt now, turning her attention back to the TV for whatever mindless crap had come on.

It didn't manage to hold her attention in the least. Every commercial break, she found herself forgetting what she was watching, grumbling, not even capable of paying notice for five minutes at a time.

And the minutes _dragged_ on. Swearing it had to have been at least an hour and a half, she looked up to find it had only been twenty-five minutes. With a frustrated sigh, Jamie gathered her things and slammed them on the coffee table, ignoring the startled sound of a Guardian from another room, and started up the stairs with heavy footfalls. Cole's door was closed— honestly, that was expected— and his lights were off as she shuffled past to her own room.

 _That_ light was on, and there was already a body perched on the bed, sitting on the edge of her mattress. Cole looked up as she walked in, face betraying nothing as they once again stared at each other. This time she refused to be the one to speak first; he was clearly the one with something to say.

When he first spoke, it was such a soft mumble that she didn't even hear it.

“Try again?”

He swallowed hard, closed his eyes, and took a breath. “You're right.” He looked up at her again. “I look at you and I see Her. That's not fair. You're your own person, and I need to treat you as such. It's my own fault, and I can't blame you for getting mad. I'm a little hurt that your only solution was to treat me as though you hate me, but I can understand what prompted you to do it.”

When she recovered from what had to be an amusingly startled expression, Jamie nodded. “Thanks. Yeah, thank you. I'm glad you understand.”

He nodded. “If I promise to try and not treat you like someone you're not, do you think you can, perhaps, be civil with me? Let me know when I've done wrong and I'll do what I can to correct it, and maybe it can all be done without any unnecessary blood spilled.”

Grinning just the slightest bit, she nodded, too. “Yeah. We can try that.”

“Good.” It looked like he was going to take her hand for a second, but thought better of it as he pushed himself up from the bed. “Good.” Awkwardly, probably because he had no better ideas, he patted her shoulder on his way to the door. “Yeah, good.”

He was halfway down the hall when she felt a little tug on her heartstrings. “Cole?” she called after him, feeling a little unsure and a bit crazed and more than a little bit tired.

“Yes?”

“D'you… Would you...” Jamie sighed. “Wanna stay with me tonight? Like, y'know, we did… before? The other night? Just… maybe read a bit? Keep me company?”

He looked as uncertain as she felt, but took a step back toward her room. “Are you—?”

“Out of my mind, possibly.”

In silence, he shuffled back into her room, stopping just by her bed and staring at the blankets. “Really?”

She could feel her face flush. “I slept better,” she said quickly. “That night, when… I dunno. I guess you kinda helped me sleep? And the nightmares… didn't go away, but they weren't… it was better. Waking up. Not being alone. So. If you'd like… you're, I mean, welcome to. To stay. For a bit. Or all night, I guess, if you want, if you fall asleep, I'm not gonna kick—”

“I'll get my book.”


	54. Easy Dreams

And suddenly, though no one else was entirely sure how, Jamie and Cole were sleeping together. After the first night, more followed, and Jamie always knew who she’d be able to escape to. And eventually, they fell into a weirdly intimate and strangely comforting routine, where each night when the first of them went to bed, they went to the others room. And together they slept, curled up, tangled in each others arms and warmed by piles of blankets and pillows as the weather stayed cold and the dreams grew stronger. It didn’t keep the nightmares away, not in the least. But now it was easier to fight her way out of them, having someone to call her back, already there to hold her.

Together. And not. Something. But still distant.

Whatever they were, they made it work. And some nights, when the nightmares and memories weren't so bad, it was a good arrangement, and maybe they were even a little bit happy.


	55. Drunken Fools

_“Darling?”_

_Red and weary eyes blinked slowly, and she pulled a pillow over her face to block out the light of the rising sun; Almas was standing over her in the doorway, where she'd fallen asleep waiting well into the night, a maniac grin on her face and a sing-song lilt to her voice._

_“You said you wanted to know when they came back, didn't you?” There was absolute delight and mischief in her eyes. “They're on their way in. They've just been spotted.”_

_And suddenly she was wide awake, fury sparking like fireworks in her eyes as she jumped up and threw the blankets back. “Are they all in one piece?”_

_“Well enough. Marlin looks like he has one killer hangover, but your lover boy seems just about fine, as always.”_

_“Oh, not for long.” She cracked her neck and pulled on a cloak, slipped on a simple pair of shoes, and patted her sister's shoulder. “Give me room. I'm going to give them a piece of my mind, and I'd like this to be perfectly humiliating.”_

_Almas couldn't stop smiling as she gestured to the door. “I expect some excellent details when you return!” she called after her sister._

_One look would have been enough to make any man fall to his knees and beg for mercy, even if he hadn't done anything wrong. A holy man would confess to murder if he crossed her path. And yet, when she stalked through the trees and blocked the only path into their camp, it didn't seem to stop the two men who sluggishly shuffled towards her, not until they were within an arm's reach._

_It could have been because they looked as if they'd slept in the gutters, holding heads that were surely pounding with every glimpse of sunlight and only wanted to return to their beds. It could have been because they knew better than to try and avoid a woman so angry and so scorned. It was_ probably _because they had their eyes on the ground, focusing on putting one foot in front of another, and didn't see her standing there until they saw their feet, but she liked to think that there was perhaps a shred of sense in them._

_Judging only on their horrified expressions when they finally looked up, it was absolutely certainly the last one._

_Cole was the first to dare to speak, forcing a smile that was unconvincing paired with his painful squint. “What are you doing, my love? The sun hasn't even risen; darling, you should still be asleep.”_

_She said nothing._

_Marlin cleared his throat. “We were just hoping to get to—”_

_“Shut up.”_

_“But—”_

_“Marlin, if the god of gods is getting the silent treatment, what makes you think I'm going to want to have a conversation with a_ magic fishmonger _?!” Her voice went shrill and loud; they both flinched, and Marlin looked almost a bit hurt by her description. It was a little mean— not the point; they deserved it._

_“We sent you to town for a cask of ale well before sunset. And now you come slinking back, just after dawn, and all you have to say is that I should be in bed?! I should kill you both! Do you have any idea how worried we were?! We nearly sent an army after you!”_

_Wisely, neither said anything._

_“Has anything happened?”_

_Both men answered far too quickly. “No!”_

_She fixed them with a look._

_Marlin was the first to cave. “We— we got the ale, and had every intention of coming back, we really did. But the man we bought it from talked us into staying for a drink, and then a few more of the villagers came, and we... shared a few drinks. Just a few. And I might have done a bit of… showing off?”_

_The palpable fear in the air was almost amusing, more so with Cole standing next to him, shaking his head as if he could stop the onslaught of fury he was sure was just beneath the surface. “Showing off_ what _, Marlin?” she hissed._

_“Um… um, a bit of… magic.”_

_“And?”_

_He'd gone pale, swallowed hard, took one deep breath, and promptly passed out, flat on the ground._

_Only after she began laughing did Cole look like he wouldn't do the same. “That was cruel, darling,” he sighed, a bit of color coming back to his face._

_“Perhaps, but I doubt he'll ever try to lie to me ever again.” Then a shadow crossed her face. “You, on the other hand...”_

_And the fear was quick to return._

_“What happened?”_

_“It really wasn't much,” he tried to assure he, a hand hovering by her shoulder until he apparently thought better of it. “Really. He showed off a bit— we were both being foolish, just making jokes. He stabbed one man's sword into a rock and made everyone in the tavern try to pull it out—”_

_“Did you return it?”_

_“Yes, I swear, once we'd had our laugh. I removed it and returned it, no harm done.”_

_“Is that all?”_

_“We got drunk, told some wild tales, and left. They didn't even know our names; Marlin must have corrected them a thousand times, yet they only ever called him Merlin. And they didn't even bother to ask my name! By tomorrow, they'll have forgotten all about us, if they remember anything of the night at all, I swear. We should have come back, I know, and I so deeply regret making your worry, but it all got away from us.”_

_She must not have looked convinced, because he pulled her into a hug and kissed her ear. “Forgive me?” he whispered._

_Grudgingly, she sighed and nodded. “I suppose I do.”_

_“Good.” It earned her another kiss. “And to be fair, this little adventure is hardly anything compared to that weekend you had in Greece where you gave them Dionysus—”_

_She hugged him back hard enough to knock a bit of wind out of him. “We don't talk about that, do we?”_

_Laughing a little, he nodded. “Of course, dear. Whatever you said.” As she led him back to the farm, he glanced over their shoulders. “Shall I send someone to wake him?”_

_“Ah, leave him be. Just so we can be sure he's learned his lesson.”_


	56. Stress Relief

Stress could manifest itself in the worst possible ways sometimes. There was always the usual sleeplessness, or bad dreams; over eating or under eating was always a thrilling possibility; a lethargic day on the couch, bemoaning the pointlessness of it all was always fun; the best, though, had to be the public breakdown, never complete without wild weeping and an utterly hopeless collapse onto the sidewalk.

But no, Jamie had to get the worst of it all: an entire day of classes and dancing, she slammed her car door and stomped to the house, her entire body so tense it hurt, her head pounding, and her head so crowded she could hardly think in a straight line, no matter how hard she tried. Opening the door took two tries, and all of her bags fell in a pile as she kicked her shoes at the wall and dropped her coat where she stood. Everything felt twitchy, from the little tick in her eye to the jerky way she moved, even her heartbeat was going all over the charts. It was a relief to finally throw herself down on the couch, letting out a loud howl of annoyance when it wasn't even a little bit comfortable.

Frustrated, she dramatically flipped onto her back, growling at the ceiling, ignoring all the cracks her back made; Cole walked into the room, looking like he was dangerously close to laughing as he set a cup of tea on the table and picking up a book. “You look like you've had a long day.”

She kicked the cushions by way of response, just before sitting up to make room for him. “I hate everything. School is a wreck, the world is a wreck, life is a wreck— I'm so stressed, I could either sleep for a week, or eat through an entire bakery right now.”

He chuckled and shook his head, sitting down and flipping to the bookmark in his book.

Jamie let out a sigh as she righted herself and let her head fell back, cracking her hands and feet before she lazily turned her head to look at him, her eyes traveling up and down his body before she took a deep breath. It wouldn't be the worst idea she'd ever had… And for the love of all things holy, if she didn't find a way to relax, her heart was going to explode in her chest. Nothing ventured… “What would you say to going upstairs for a bit of 'stress relief'?”

Charmingly, his brow furrowed as he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “What?”

“Think it through.”

More confusion swept over his face.

“Keep thinking.”

The book closed, and in a moment it clicked; his eyes widened and horror instantly replaced the confusion.

“There it is.”

“Jamie—!”

“Should I take that as a 'no'?”

“Of course that's a 'no'!”

She shrugged. “Figured it was worth a shot.”

Shocked at how casual she seemed, it took a moment for him to find his voice again. “Jamie, you hardly even like me on any given day. Half the time, you only talk to me because of the— the— whatever our sleeping situation is.” Even mentioning it had turned his cheeks pink. “Why would that even cross your mind?”

“I like you well enough!” she protested. “Besides, you don't have to like someone to have sex with them! I didn't like _half_ the guys I've slept with. Hell, some of them, I didn't even know their names! But when you need to get the stress gone, it's as good a solution as any! Maybe even better!”

By now he had turned red. “I certainly don't see it that way,” Cole grumbled, pretending he was going back to reading.

“Maybe you should! It wouldn't kill you, you know; go out, buy someone a drink, do something a bit ungodly for once?”

“Perhaps you should, since you seem to be more experienced in that sort of situation.”

She shrugged. “Most days I would, but I can't help but feel like it'd be a little weird with _Her_ running through my head. Come to think of it, I did try it— and I had to leave in the middle of the night because the dreams were freaking me out. I figured, if She's gonna be making all my memories about you, maybe I should just try it for myself.”

 _That_ he didn't dignify with a response.

“Oh, come on! Are you telling me you've never done it? Just gone at it with someone until you both feel better?”

His silence was all the answer she needed.

“And suddenly it makes a lot more sense why you have that stick up your ass.” She gave a little laugh. “Seriously, when was the last time you got any?”

He locked eyes with her, glaring, before he answered. “I've never been anything less than completely faithful to _my wife_ , Jamie, thank you very much.”

It was simultaneously cute, shocking, and ridiculous, and she knew her thoughts were written all over her face. “You're telling me you haven't gotten laid in more than three hundred years? Dear _god_ , man!”

“Is this going to continue for very long? If it is, I'd like to know so I can _leave_.”

“Oh, come on! You have to admit, it's not something you'd expect! A drop-dead sexy man like you could walk into any bar in the country and walk out in about sixteen seconds with _anyone_ you wanted! Why wouldn't you take advantage of that?”

The tips of his ears were pink. “No.”

“Oh my _god_ , I have to teach you things.” Her shoulders cracked as she rolled them. “I can't believe it. I really, totally can't. I thought for _sure_ you would've had this number that would totally _crush_ mine, I mean three _hundred_ years worth, and I've got you _so_ beat by a million miles!”

His eyes darted back and forth, but he didn't look directly at her. “Um, how… how many people have you slept with?”

She hardly lifted her head and raised an eyebrow. “Do you _really_ want me to answer that?”

It was abundantly clear by his expression that, with closer consideration, he did _not_.

“I'm just saying, I've never gotten anything but _ecstatic_ praise from my partners, and I'm stressed and so _fucking_ sexually frustrated like you wouldn't believe. Every time I even try to think about going out and hooking up, there's this part of my head that won't let me! And it pisses me off, 'cause I know that that part of me _isn't_ me, it's _Her_ , and then I get even more frustrated in a totally different way! Worse of all, all of this could very easily be solved if you'd just take me upstairs and _bang me_ , which by all accounts you should be ready to do without a second thought because apparently you've been suffering from a severe case of self-imposed celibacy since _before America was a fucking thing_ , but for some reason you're not and I have literally no idea why!”

There was uncontrollable laughter from one room, and something that sounded dangerously like a Guardian choking from another. Cole stared, turning a bit red, as she sat down, unaware she'd even stood, and pouted. Hard.

And from then on, the silence was absurdly oppressive. He sat still as a statue as she huffed and grumbled, trying to get comfortable and utterly failing. It was only five minutes before she was totally sick of it, and ended up jumping to her feet with an annoyed sound, shaking her head and making an annoyed sound. “So I guess I'll see you in the morning, then.”

Somehow, that seemed to shock him. “Oh.” He shook his head. “You want to be alone. I understand.”

“What?”

“What?”

“I-I just through— you wouldn't want to be around me.”

He blushed again. “I mean, I won't say I'm _please_ to hear… _that_ , but that's not going to stop me from taking care of you.” It sounded dangerously like there was a declaration of love hanging just behind it, but she decided not to dwell on things unsaid. “And… I'm not going to make you suffer through those nightmares by yourself just because I don't agree with choices you've made in your life, or because you don't agree with mine.”

Surprisingly touched, Jamie nodded to give herself a moment to collect. “Oh. Okay, then. Um, goodnight. I guess.” With a little smile, she trudged upstairs, hesitating only for a second before slipping into his room and crawling right into bed. Falling straight to sleep, the only thing to wake her before morning was the sharp bite of a bitter memory, comforted by his warm arms as he lulled her back to sleep.


	57. Wards

Midnight; not a sound from the pavement.

Or, rather, when Jamie's exhausted mind managed to pick up on the difference between reality and musical nonsense, just after 1 o'clock, with quite a bit of noise coming from the pavement. Up from the start of another dream, having passed out on the couch with a book in hand, she shuffled into the kitchen, too tired to be nervous as she stole a look out the window.

Something was out there rustling through the bushes; without thinking about it, she grabbed a sweater and slipped on a pair of shoes as she silently opened the door and crept out. The clouds obscured all of the stars, only letting through the occasional beam of a crescent moon, making the usual darkness seem even darker. She rubbed her eyes and listened; the sound was somewhere in the hedges. Carefully following, making no noise to keep from startling whatever it was, she rounded the corner of the house and had to stop and stare:

It was Ellie. In her PJ shorts and a robe, with one slipper hanging off of her foot, she wiggled her way into the hedge, as if she had dived in, her entire upper body practically consumed by the bush.

After a minute of watching, Jamie shook her head and sighed. “Need some help there?” she asked, maybe just a bit loud as she grabbed the slipper-less foot.

Of course she'd expected some big reaction, a good bit of anger and fear, but nothing prepared her for the night-shattering _shriek_ and wild flailing that followed. It was nearly impossible to keep a straight face as dogs began howling and baying in the distance, lights flicking on, and a window above them rushed open.

Fox's head poked out so quickly, it was surprising that he didn't tumble out. “What the _fuck_ was that?!” he shouted, just as Don appeared at another window with what looked horrifyingly like a good old fashioned mace in one hand.

Ellie gasped, falling back and sitting on the wall with a hand on her chest as, lastly, Cole threw open his own— _her_ — window. “ _Jamie!_ ” she shouted pointing wildly at the laughing girl.

“Is she okay?!” Cole yelled back.

Both women rolled their eyes at him. “I'm fine!” both answered, annoyed, although amusement filled one voice and sarcasm filled the other.

Don looked like he genuinely wanted to throw the mace at them; Fox rolled his eyes and flipped them both off as he closed the window. The lights slowly went off and the dogs began quieting as Jamie turned, chuckling to herself, back to the still recovering and glaring witch.

“What _possibly_ possessed you to think that was a good idea?” she asked with venom.

She shrugged cheerfully and forced away a yawn. “I thought it'd be funny, and I was right. What the hell were you doing?”

That seemed to remind her that there had been a purpose to her tomfoolery. Ellie jumped and began searching through the hedge again. “Something tripped my wards,” she mumbled. “Woke me up. Probably just a groundhog or something, but if they got through, then I've done something wrong and I need to fix it. Nothing should be getting in.”

“Why? She's still all trapped up nice and tight in that pretty little separate universe, right?”

Ellie gave a dark look over her shoulder. “Not forever. And when that time comes, I'm not giving her any weakness to exploit.”

With a heavy sigh, Jamie sat on the steps and watched the search, yawning widely. “How does that even work?” she mumbled sleepily. “Just telling the air _right here_ not to let anyone in but us? That's bull. It's stupid. It doesn't work like that.”

Even though her eyes were closed, she could _feel_ how Ellie rolled her eyes. “Wards are magic working on an atomic level,” she said simply, muffled a bit by the bushes she'd returned to again. “I take control of the atoms; I know which ones make the shape I want to defend our home. They make a shield, all connected, interacting with each other. Like air; just because you can't see it doesn't mean it isn't there. And then I give it information, on the most basic level, what combinations of atoms and cells and DNA are allowed to pass, who goes in, who doesn't, and I've usually done it well enough that if they're not supposed to be in then they can't _get_ in, but this time something did— and I hear it, like an alarm in my head, when something tries and _especially_ when something succeeds—”

“She doesn't understand a word of what you're saying.” Jamie nodded at Cole's observation; he chuckled and knelt behind her. “Don't make such a face, Eleonora. It's late; whatever little creature it was won't get out again, and your valiant search can wait for tomorrow. It's bedtime.”

“Later,” Ellie mumbled dismissively, rustling further down the hedge. Cole gave another quiet laugh and picked Jamie up in a cradle carry, muttering something about 'determined witches' as he took her up to bed.

She must have fallen asleep somewhere between the back door and the stairs, because the next thing she knew, she heard Ellie yelling again, shouting shrilly, “ _Get back here, you ugly-ass_ _feline_ _piece of shit!_ ”

Cole chuckled and threw and arm across her to keep her from getting up. “Let her go,” he mumbled into the pillow. “Even people as old as her need to make their own mistakes sometimes. Magic or not. Might be the only way she learns.”

So they fell back to sleep together, listening to the frustrated yells of the witch and the angry hisses of the cat under their window.


	58. Chapter 58

_Esmeralda laughed as she collapsed in the dirt, the Igbo children swarming her to climb on her lap, pull on her arms to keep her playing, their beads clicking and their shouts like nothing less than music. “Ala!” they called, giggling each time she answered— what could be more delightful than their mother of mothers playing with them?_

_She joined her sister, smiling as a few of the braver children joined her; they probably thought she was a ghost for how pale she was, or some spirit servant of Ogbunabali, but somehow they instinctively knew there was some divinity in her._

_“You have nothing to fear,” she chuckled, holding out her hand to an uncertain boy. “Ogbunabali only comes at night, and only to those who deserve it. You aren't in his sights, dear.”_

_The boy finally smiled and jumped into her lap as a girl began playing with her hair and laughing behind her. “It's so thin!” she was giggling as she tried to work it into braids._

_Soon there was a collection of girls, all eager to play with her hair; she had to sit very still, nearly totally stiff, only able to look at her sister from the corner of her eyes. “They're very energetic,” she said._

_“As children are wont to be!” her sister laughed. “They're wise, too; they know us for what we are. They see us as we see ourselves, not as their stories have made us to be.”_

_“They know the spirits; they're still young enough to feel that.”_

_“Perhaps that's why they're blessings in their tribe.” Esmeralda began braiding the hair of a girl in her lap. “They've decided their mine, did you hear them? Ala came without children, so they've decided they'll be mine to make up for that.”_

_That made her laugh. “I'm afraid we can't take them with us.”_

_“I had a feeling. Where's Njoku Ji?” she added with a smirk, using the name they gave him and knowing what the answer would be._

_She rolled her eyes. “In the fields, again, helping harvest for Iwa Ji, again, because he can't say no to anyone even once.”_

_“_ _Unless it's you, telling him to take some time for his own peace?”_

_“Especially then. I'm the only exception, and it's quite a big exception.”_

_“But Njoku Ji came back!” one of the young girls corrected, tugging on the braid she was working on in her enthusiasm. “I saw him come back from the field! He was creeping around the village like he didn't want anyone to see him. He didn't know that I did!” she added proudly._

_The sisters exchanged a curious glance; never before had they known the god to be even the least bit secretive. “I have a have a hand on them,” Esmeralda said, taking a child from her sister's lap so she could stand and go._

_Rushing about look for her husband, it was horribly difficult not to look as nervous as she felt. For him to have returned before the farmers, before he'd given all the help he was capable of, and gone into the village without finding his companions, there had to be something truly and horribly wrong. The more she thought about it, the more scared she became, and it must have shown on her face; one look, and an elderly man pointed straight to an unfamiliar home._

_“What happened?!” she asked, nearly yelling as she burst through the flap, rushing to him and grabbing his shoulders. “They said you came back by yourself and spoke to no one, and looked worried—” But… he was laughing, and rolling his eyes, and looked exasperated as he hugged her and shook his head. “What? Wait, stop— what's happening?”_

_Head down and smiling, he gestured to the room; it had been made more comfortable with dozens of blankets for a floor, a fair fire pit for after night fell, and a table— with_ food _, what looked like real meats and greens and not a single yam in sight. She turned back to him with a stunned look._

_“I was trying to surprise you,” he admitted with a sigh. “I was going to give you a night of peace and quite with just us, you and I, like we haven't had since before we started traveling here. Esmeralda suggested it.”_

_All of the fear rushed out of her in a laugh. “I've been running mad all over the place thinking it was the damned English again. And you were just trying to be a darling husband. And I managed to ruin it.”_

_“You didn't ruin it.” He smiled and kissed her forehead. “Join me for dinner, my love?”_

_“As long as there's not a single yam anywhere in it.”_


	59. Apartment

“Do my eyes deceive me?!” Alison gasped as Jamie shuffled into the kitchen, glaring with exhaustion. “She _lives_!”

“Shut up and feed me.” Knowing it would never happen, though, she pawed through the fridge until she found something that looked edible. Once it was in the microwave, she turned to her still-smirking roommate. “You just saw me at lunch today.”

“Yeah, but I haven't seen you in this apartment in _day_ _s_. Even when I do, you grab whatever it is you need and run away back to your boyfriend's house.”

Jamie's sour look soured further. “He's not my boyfriend.”

“Fine, your fuckboy, then.”

Jamie nearly dropped the plate she pulled out of the microwave, and not because it was hot. “Alison!”

“What?! You really want to try and deny it?”

“Yes! Because I'm not getting laid!”

“Bullshit! Daily. There's no other reason you'd be over there all the _freaking_ time.”

She almost argued, but forced herself to stop and focus on her food instead. Was there really a better explanation she could give? With this, at least, Alison looked giddy rather than annoyed. So instead, staring at whatever it was on her plate, Jamie took a bite and shrugged.

Alison slapped the counter and let out an excited squeal. “See?! I knew it! You didn't fool me for a second!” She gasped. “Is it something super kinky? Is that why you don't want to talk about it?”

“Ali—”

“It _is_!” She was giggling like a madwoman— similar enough that Jamie had to bite back a surge of fear at the sound— and couldn't seem to stop, leaving her friend to only stare. “It has to be! Ooh, it's really good, too, right? Like, why else would you never leave his place? So it's super kinky _and_ super good?!”

“Is there anything, literally anything, I can do or say to make you shut up?”

“Details!”

And since there were none to give, and no ideas for lies that would be juicy enough to satisfy her, Jamie stabbed at her food with her fork and shouldered past the new ecstatic roommate into the living room. Vince greeted her with a wildly confused expression.

“I don't want to talk about it,” she sighed.

He rolled his eyes. “She's just being a nut 'cause she's freaking out waiting to hear from her grad schools.”

“So this is gonna be happening for awhile?”

“Hey, better you than me. She's been giggling over my shoulder every time I've gotten a text from Don for two weeks straight.”

“Glad to be of service.” He rolled his eyes as Alison skipped off to her room with an enormous glass of Coke. “Seriously, though, we hardly ever see you anymore.”

“'Cause she's getting so totally boned!”

They ignored her. “Are you and him _together_ or what?”

Jamie rolled her eyes and sunk back into the couch. “You had dinner with us last week; I know you couldn't _stand_ to look at anything other than Soldier Boy for even a second, but at any point did it _look_ like I was _with_ Cole?”

Vince flinched as Alison launched herself back into the room. “This fucker was there, too?!” she yelled, smacking him on the shoulder. “You told me you were going to the library!”

“Ow! Dammit, yes, because otherwise you probably would have stalked me there!”

“Not fair!”

“I'll give you all the details if you let us have this conversation!”

That seemed good enough to sate Alison for the shortest while, and she went back to her room while Jamie became very focused on her food.

“I don't know what else it would be.” When she looked up, he looked a bit _hurt_. “I mean, they're cool and all, but don't go forgetting about us.”

“Vince, it's not like I'm trying to replace you guys!”

“What is it, then?! You practically abandoned us to be there every single night!”

And then suddenly she felt awful, realizing what her new-found life looked like to her best friends. Guiltily, Jamie began playing with her hair, not quite looking at him. They deserved answers, but they'd never believe her, even if she wanted to tell them. It was amazing they were so casual already considering all the fuss she'd made before… well, _Before_.

“Vince,” she said slowly, “I'm _not_ replacing you guys. It's just that… ever since… just… when I was sick...”

He was watching her intently, which only made her feel even worse about lying.

“I have night terrors,” she blurted out; her face burned, and she could only hope he'd take it as shame instead of guilt. “They started when I was sick, and they aren't going away— they're getting _worse._ But Fox, I mean, he's a med student, he's been— he's been trying to help.”

Vince looked shocked, worried, and guilty, all at the same time. “Really?”

She nodded— it was a half truth, wasn't it? That was the best she could give him. “It gets bad. Yelling and screaming and throwing punches.” Again, not totally a lie on the worst of nights. “I didn't want… you guys would freak out. And all I'd do would be scare you every night and there would be nothing you could do.”

Frowning, more to himself than at her now, Vince wormed his way across the couch and hugged her. “I'm sorry, that was super petty of me. Are you okay?”

She shrugged. “Tired. But I'll live.”

Relieved, he sighed. “Let us know what we can do?”

“I doubt there'll be anything, but I'll let you know if there is.” There was a pause. “Will you be the one to tell Alison? I don't think I can deal with that.”

“If you want me to.”

As if she were summoned, Alison peeked out from her room, looking both furious and heart broken. They could only stare.

“I'm so fucking stressed,” she explained slowly, “that I just cried because my computer is taking too long to boot up. Please make me something very very strong to drink so I'm not tempted to break the bottle.”

Both nodded as she disappeared again. After a minute, Jamie patted Vince's knee. “Maybe wait until after those apps of hers come back.”

“Just keep letting her think you're getting laid wildly and frequently.”

“Good call.”


	60. Bad Dreams

Jamie gasped as a hand clamped down on her shoulder, shaken out of sleep with a jump as she rolled over; Cole was staring at her, eyes wide, chest heaving, beads of sweat on his forehead, hands shaking as he settled back on the pillows and rubbed his eyes.

“Bad dream?” she asked softly, rolling her shoulder; he had a hell of a grip.

He nodded.

“D'you wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head. “Go back to sleep,” he murmured as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her back into bed, and pressed his forehead against her back.

Only when his breathing had evened out did she allow herself to close her eyes once again, and stayed like that, uneasy and mostly awake, until he let out a soft sigh in his sleep, and almost reassured her that it was safe to drift off again.


	61. Ass in Gear

“Anderson, ass in gear!” Ira ordered, using his foot to roll her onto her back on the dance floor.

She opened one eye to look at him grumpily. “I don't wanna. I'm taking a nap.”

“You said you'd dance with me!” Sounding alarmingly like a put-out child, he sat down beside her.

“And I told you I was busy out the ass this year, but you ignored me.”

“What's got you so dead?”

Don had been teaching her how to using an arming sword well into the night, her favorite of the weapons so far, until she'd gotten a fairly deep hit on the forearm that had required an hour of Fox's attention and a fair number of pain killers before she'd been patched up enough to stop threatening Don. And of course, going to bed only meant the dreams… “There's a round of auditions on Saturday, which I'm leading the choreography for to make up missing last semester's finals, and every ounce of my free time is going to into getting ready for it.” More blatant lies; it was the first she'd thought of it in weeks.

“God knows why you care so much.”

Her laugh sounded more like a groan as she finally sat up. “God knows. I should ask him someday.”

“Request a million dollars for me while you're at it.”

“Will do.”

“C'mon, up.” He grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. “Nadia's running late.”

“So why can't I nap?”

“Because I'll never get you up if you do.”

Which, admittedly, was true. But she still wasn't happy as she sighed and ran out to the floor. In silence, she stretched, watching Ira in the mirror as he did the same. “Not like you have a ton to worry about; you choreographed the entire thing a week in.”

“Yeah, but there's things I think I want to change, and we're going to run it until it's flawless.” He stood up from a back-bend and did a few small turns to her. “So these auditions this weekend; what're you teaching them?”

Jamie used a few seconds of spinning to make her decision, stretching into an arabesque and holding out her hand to him. “A _Cin_ _d_ _erella_ waltz.”

“Which one?” He didn't even have to think about how he took her hand and twirled her, pulling her in and holding her at the waist so he could easily lift her high above his head. “Personally, I'm a fan of the Strauss/Bayer one, but most people are more into the Prokofiev version. And every girl from the 1990s knows Rodgers and Hammerstein by heart.”

She laughed and scrunched her nose as he set her back down, let her spin, and picked her up again in a fish dive. “No,” she chuckled, their eyes meeting in the mirror. “I mean the new one. The movie. With the big dresses and the really hot prince.”

His face went blank. “You're lucky I like you,” he grumbled, going into another lift. “I should drop you just for that. That's blasphemy.”

“Well, thanks for not. Hey, could you crack my back for me?”

“Sure.”

“And my feet are a bit—”

“Foot rubs are a bit reserved for bed, you know the rules.” Pouting, she spun rapidly with his support. “Speaking of, did you send one of your girls my way?”

“Sadie? Yeah.” Finally, she stopped dancing. “Why?”

“She was blushing so red she looked like she was on fire and stuttering so bad I couldn't understand a word of it. I just had a feeling you had _everything_ to do with that.”

“So it was a no go?”

“Maybe another time. She had no chance of salvaging that train wreck proposition.”

“But hey, I bet she made you laugh. Not to her face, I hope, but I'm sure you laughed.”

That he did, cracking his neck and taking a look in the mirror, nodding at his reflection. “I did, didn't I?” Whatever he was thinking, he didn't say, and practiced a few cabrioles down the floor on his way to his music. “Do you have a modern combination for those auditions?”

She gave him a Look. “Please.”

“Right, forgot who I was talking to.” He changed the song and ran back to the middle of the room. “You can steal this one from me.”

They were halfway through the phrase when Nadia walked in. “Ira,” she sighed, dropping her bag, “either you're completely redoing our entire freaking dance, in which case I'll have to kill you, or you need different music because apparently all you have on that contraption is Sara Bareilles.”

With a dramatic gasp, Ira did a leaping turn and pointed accusingly at her. “Don't you dare go insulting my queen; she's a beautiful human being and a god among men, and you need to apologize.”

Jamie laughed and did the same leap, deciding that would be the end of the phrase and calling it done. “He's giving me choreography for the auditions this weekend 'cause I've been an overworked and lazy ass.”

“I'm pretty sure those two are totally contradictory.”

“And yet I make it work.”

Ira rolled his eyes and gave her a shove. “I'm taking five,” he announced, pulling on slippers, “and then we'll go into real rehearsal, cool?”

“What do we do if that's _not_ cool?” Nadia scoffed; he flipped her off as he twirled out the door. The second it closed, Nadia rounded on Jamie, grabbing her by the shoulders and dragging her all the way to the corner of the room, smiling so wide she looked like her jaw just might break. “You little _sneak_!” she squealed, poking Jamie in the ribs.

“That tickles, stop, stop!” Squirming until it stopped, she shook her head. “I have literally no freaking idea what you're talking about!”

She flinched as it earned her a few light slaps to the shoulder. “Oh my god, like you don't know! Okay, so, I saw you, today, coming to campus, and— okay, you totally didn't see me, but we were parked super close, and the _guy_ who apparently drove you here in a _Camero_ , is… holy shit, Jamie, I could have cried. He was so beautiful, I could have cried, and if I'm not mistaken, he _held your hand_ all the way to the library.”

“Were you stalking me?”

“Totally unintentionally, I swear. Oh. My. God. His car looked like hell on wheels, he looked like Adonis, and he acted like _Cary fucking Grant._ Please, please tell me who he is, where I can find one, and _how_ have you not mentioned it before? I thought you were eying Ira! I mean, everyone knows you were his favorite hook up last year, so I just assumed, but now _this guy_ — I so can't blame you!”

The onslaught of questions left her a good bit startled. “He— Okay, he wasn't _holding my hand_ ,” was all she could manage to say. “I was holding onto his arm so I didn't slip on the ice!”

“Uh-huh. Doesn't change the fact he was a perfect classic gentleman whose face could cause a heart attack.”

“He's...” She swallowed hard, rolled her eyes, and pretended she wasn't bordering on a blush. “He's a _friend_ , okay? And I've been spending some time… at his place, with mutual friends, and I… I crashed, I do that sometimes, I crash at their place, and he brought me here today!”

Nadia's eyes looked ravenous. “So he's up for grabs?”

“I mean, yeah, sure, I guess.” That absolutely was _not_ a pout, and it absolutely was _not_ her own jealousy flaring up. “If you know anything about wooing widowers, have at him.”

“Seriously? Aw, that's so sad. That's genuinely heartbreaking.” Her eyes flicked back and forth as she thought. “I have some ideas.”

“I am so horrified to hear you say that.”

If there was anything that was going to follow, it was lost when Ira threw the door open and stopped. “And what's this I've walked in on? Have you girls been having fun while I was away?”

“You perv!” Nadia laughed, patted Jamie's shoulder, and went to stretch at the barre. “I'll have you know I was only telling Jamie about a sordid evening last week that I spent with Pippa and her econ nerd, who may be the cutest on the face of the planet.”

“Yeah, I'm sure,” he chuckled, kicking off a slipper to hit her in the back of the thigh.

“You think I'm joking?”

“I...” He stopped. “I… don't… know.”

“I could tell you all about it and you can try and figure out if I'm lying.” Jamie snorted at that.

“As appealing as it was, maybe we should just do some dancing.” He grabbed Jamie, ignoring her as she wiggled and squealed, tossed over his shoulder— Nadia gave her an amused, loaded look— and set her in her starting pose across the room. “Good girl!”

“Oh, I should kick your ass for that.”

“All in good time!” He did the same for Nadia, earning himself a kick in the gut and ending with each of them slapping each others' butts until he set her down and began the music. “Ass in gear; start dancing, Anderson.”


	62. Desert

_“_ _Y_ _ou're so lucky I love you,” she dead-panned as their animal lumbered along through the heat and the desert. No procession followed them this time, not even a handful of_ _G_ _uardians for protection— that, though, had been of their own doing, a decision made when they found their armies drawing lots to see which poor souls would join them on the journey. They'd rolled their eyes and armed themselves instead, setting out on their own with no words of scolding, only looks that would hopefully haunt them for awhile. Maybe their companions would learn from some weeks of mindless worrying and guilt, and surely they were both strong enough to defend themselves for so short a time._

_But when she herself had agreed to the adventure, she hadn't considered just how utterly_ miserable _the trek to Palmyra was, and it didn't help her temper that he seemed perfectly alright and even pleasant about the whole thing. “I could have stayed with my sister_ _s_ _, you know. In Luoyang. They're living like queens—_ _empresses._ _Ducks and pigs and strawberries and peaches and_ wine _whenever they want.”_

_When he smiled, it took all she had not to reach out and strike him. “You mean you're not happy with our traveling feast?”_

_“Cole, if you give me another piece of dried meat_ _and call it a meal_ _,_ _I'm_ going _to figure out a way to kill you, and I'm_ going _to follow through with it. Hard.”_

_“I have such a charming wife,” he sighed with a smile._

_“Not for much longer.”_

_He laughed, and when she dug her heels into the side of her horse, he reached out and grabbed her hand before she could speed off. “_ _They built this temple for me,” he sighed, ignoring her glare. “God of Gods, Lord of Lords. It's the least I can do for them.”_

_She grabbed her hand out of his, but at least didn't try to race away again._

_“There'll be a feast,” he suggested. And when that got no answer, he sighed once more. “We could always go to Mecca before we return.”_

_That perked her up. “Really?”_

_“It's about time All_ _ā_ _t returned to her home for a bit, don't you think? You've been away for far too long, and they do love you fiercely.” And this time, his smile made her smile in return. “And I'll personally serve you all the kasba you could possibly dream of. On my knees, if that's what you want.”_

_Just the mention of her favorite food from one of her favorite cities made her mouth water. “Those sound like agreeable terms, I suppose.”_

_“Even better, we can give those lazy bastards in our ranks something to worry about for an extra month.”_

_“Even better.” She pulled him close enough for an enthusiastic kiss, even_ giggled _— and then drew back, turning to see the miles of desert that still waited for them. And even then, weeks in Palmyra were waiting before she'd even start towards Mecca. Her expression soured dramatically, and her glare settled on her husband._

_“I know,” he sighed, picking up the pace with only a hint of fear. “Lucky, lucky me.”_


	63. Guardians

Jamie was a hot mess and she knew it; by the time she stumbled in the door, still wearing her sweaty dance clothes with hardly any energy to get rid of her coat, it was past eleven. Her feet hurt from dancing, her legs and back her from walking, her _arms_ hurt from being lifted so many times, and her ass hurt from more than a few drops. With dark circles under her eyes, she shuffled into the living room, groaned loudly, and fell face-first onto the couch.

Ellie muted the TV. “Don't you sound lovely.”

Slowly, with another ache and another sound of pain, Jamie looked up just enough to meet her eyes; the witch was all smiles, as usual. “I'm broken.”

“Shame, such a shame.”

“Like a dropped china doll.”

“Tragedy, really.”

“Literally, though, Ira dropped me at least half a dozen times.”

“Sadness, sadness.”

“Are you really going to make me beg?”

“I was going to see how far I could get you.”

“Pretty please with sugar on top?”

Chuckling, Ellie finally stood up and took a seat on the coffee table in front of the couch, poking Jamie in the ribs. “Gotta roll over,” she said as she groaned. It took considerably more effort than it probably should have, but Jamie did as she'd been asked until she was staring at the ceiling, wincing. “There you are. What hurts?”

“Everything.”

“Right, I'm gonna start at the bottom and work my way up.” She shuffled her butt down the coffee table, haphazardly knocking a few things onto the floor as she did, and grabbed one of Jamie's feet. Her hands became warm and the pain slipped away; Jamie sighed and finally began to relax.

“God, that's good.”

“I should hope so, you've got a hairline fracture in two toes.”

She rubbed her eyes. “Go figure. Hard landings, probably.”

“And a couple of bruised ribs, and tailbone. And I can tell your muscles aren't feeling too hot, either.”

“Just… just consider me totaled and make it all better.”

“Your wish is my command.” She poked and prodded a bit, and with every strange, warm touch, the pain washed away, until Jamie was practically high from how much better it made everything feel.

“You have got to teach me how to do that.”

“You're in luck; someday, you'll be even better than me. The rest of us poor mortals are either born with it or not.”

Curious, she lifted her head and tilted it. “But how did you figure out you _were_? Was it like _Harry Potter_ and you were surrounded by badass magicians your entire life?”

“I was a priestess to the pagans,” Ellie said simply, as if she were talking about where she went for lunch. “In Egypt. It has to be four thousand years ago now, I’ve lost count somewhere along the way; I lived in the temple of Isis, sang the morning prayers and brought Her offerings at sunrise. There was another priestess there who could tell I had something— the light, they called it, that's how they named me— and taught me to control it.” She smiled. “You saw me one morning.”

“Really?”

“You don’t remember?”

Jamie blushed guiltily and shrugged. “Not… yet. I imagine I said something very convincing to get you to leave, though.”

“You did, of course you did. I'm _your_ Guardian; to be fair, that was the same as being Cole's for a long time, and with you gone I had no choice but to stick with Cole until you came back.” There was a moment of thought as she rubbed her hand over a bruise on her rib. “And Don, he lived at Skara Brae. Left not too long before I joined you. Cole convinced him to come. Ever the protector. Hasn’t left his side in all the centuries ever since.”

“And Fox?”

Ellie laughed. “He’s a kid compared to Don and I. A doctor in Greece, just before the Romans invaded.”

“And Cole convinced him to come, too?”

There was a moment of silence; Ellie’s face fell as she remembered. “No. Actually, it was Gideon.”

“Gideon? Who’s Gideon?”

“A soldier, just like Don, sworn to and fighting for Cole. He’d gotten hurt in battle, and there was an infection that none of the witches or doctors could heal. And somehow he found Fox, who has just enough of both in him. He saved Gideon, and was convinced to come along.”

Jamie shook her head. “I don’t know Gideon. Where is he?”

Again there was a silence, one that seemed to last forever. “There were more of us,” she said softly, trailing her fingertips down Jamie’s arms as she absently healed the bruises there. “More than just the soldier, the doctor, and the witch. Cole had armies that would follow him to the ends of the earth if he had asked. You did, too, way back when. And they’ve all fallen. They’re all gone now.” Ellie squeezed Jamie’s shoulder; the ache there faded. “More fighters, more healers, the teachers and enchanters and rangers and hunters… One by one, She cut us down. Killed the goddesses, killed their followers, even Her own… Her own friends.” She swallowed hard. “We’re not quite like you. I mean, we’re reborn, but we’d never remember. We’ve tried, of course, and all it did was break our hearts.”

“Can’t you try and convince them to come back with you again?”

“Cole gives us millennia to serve him. That’s more than we deserve, and to give him more is much more than he’d ever ask of us. Honestly, once is probably enough.” She gave a small, sad smile. “And...” But her voice trailed off.

Jamie waited for a moment. “And?” she prompted.

Ellie shook her head. “I shouldn't say. He doesn't want you to know, and he'd flip if I told you.”

“He doesn't have to know.”

“It's not exactly something you can compartmentalize.” Still, she slowed down her movements, looking Jamie over one more time and settling behind her, running her hands through her hair. “Promise you'll tell him you were just asking about one of your dreams and it just happened to come up?”

“Cross my heart.”

There was another stretch of silence as Ellie separated Jamie's hair and began an elaborate braid. “I don't know how it happened,” she finally said slowly, “but there's a sort of _dark_ _witchery_ that the Sorceress seems to know, one that I'm not aware of— which I guess isn't that surprising, she is the goddesses and I'm just a witch. But when she began, when she first broke and started killing, she started with _us_ — the friends, the servants, the _Guardians_. And she…

“It's like she killed the body and captured the soul. And manipulated them into perfect slaves. She keeps them and completely controls them. They're bound to her, and without her death they'll probably never be able to escape.”

Jamie's blood ran cold. “She made the demons.”

“Out of our friends, out of her most dedicated followers, even out of her lovers. She turned them into the most destructive _things_ anyone could ever imagine.”

“Oh, god.”

“And that's not even the worst part.”

“How could it possibly be worse?”

Eyes averted, Ellie gave a shrug. “The power to turn a soul into a demon requires _proximity_. So while she could have killed _armies_ of us from afar— and did, when she could— the Sorceress preferred to kill them up close, by her own hand. And at first, it was all too easy; before she was so far gone, when she still had control, she could just summon one of her Guardians and they wouldn't even question it. And then all she had to do was kill them. Probably got more than a dozen before anyone found out, and the rest of them could escape, or were able to send warning.”

Just imagining it sent a surge of nausea through her. “I… you're right, I don't want to know.”

“And then over time, it would just keep happening. She'd just find a way to catch them in an ordinary day, and then we'd be gone one Guardian and she'd have another demon in her ranks.” Finally, she pulled a tie from her wrist and tied it to the end of the braid, and she sat back and sighed. “It's a horrible way to go, a horrible way to _keep_ going, and nothing anyone can do about it.”

Feeling a surge of sadness, Jamie sat up, rubbing her shoulder as if it still hurt, not sure what else to say or do. What about me? she wanted to ask; what if she could do something, what if she was the one who could change it? For the first time, thinking about about long-lost people she'd never met and would never know with names only from her dreams, she was tempted to take all the responsibility she'd been offered. Being the one who had to save humanity felt like an opportunity over a burden for a split second if it meant saving Ellie, Fox, Don— and Alison and Vince, and Kate, Sadie, Pippa, Steph, every one she'd ever met and all the people she'd never have the chance to. No more deaths, no more demons— and she could be the reason. That… didn't sound bad.

That was a destiny she could live with.

“Don's out back waiting for you,” Ellie said as she grabbed the remote and settled back into the couch. “He wants to see how well you'll do with a battle ax today.”

And once again, destiny seemed like just a bit too much to have to deal with.


	64. Seer

_“_ _Wakan-Tanka!”_

_Groaning, she rolled on top of him, pulling the blankets over both of their heads. “If we stay very still and silent, maybe she'll think we aren't here and go somewhere else.”_

_Without even opening his eyes, he made a low sound of agreement._

_“Ptesan-Wi!” The flap of their tent was thrown open; there wasn't even enough light to hit the walls yet, so early the sun hadn't risen and so late the moon had set. And yet that still wasn't enough to stop the young girl from running in and pulling at the blankets and wayward limbs they hid. “Wake up! Come on, you have to get up now!”_

_“What is it, Wichac_ _h_ _pi?” Cole finally mumbled reluctantly, opening one eye; she grumbled and rolled over again, this time onto her back, covering her face with a pillow to hold back the scream of frustration that threatened to bubble over. They hadn't had a single peaceful night all the way through since their arrival, thanks to the insistent child. “Shouldn't you be asleep? It's still dark; if your parents wake up without you there, they'll be terrified. They have enough to worry about with your brother out—”_

_“He's_ back _!” the young girl whined, pulling on Cole's hand as both gods finally looked at her with alarm. “_ _Mato came back! They got the Medicine Man and he's in the lodge, you have to come!”_

_“_ _Why us?” A little bit faster now, not quite so annoyed, she grabbed her white robe of buffalo hide— a gift from the tribe as they'd arrived— and forced on a pair of_ _moccasins._ _“_ _What do they need us for? We don't have any use, this should be all him and the Medicine Man—”_

_“He_ is _!” The frustrated girl began trying to physically remove Cole, deciding he was moving too slowly for what wa_ _s_ _apparently an urgent situation. “He hasn't said anything but your names since he came back!”_

That _got their attention, considering the young man had already been on his Hembleciya by the time they'd come to the village; both quickly exchanged a look, frozen for a split second, before rushing into the camp, ignoring the annoyed yells from Wichahpi at being left behind._

_Without hesitation, they pushed through the crowd and into the lodge, where the medicine man sat, speaking in a hushed voice with a half-delirious looking young man as he deeply drank from a bowl of water._

_A bowl that fell from his hands and broke into great pieces as soon as he saw the gods rushing to him. “I saw you,” he whispered, voice hoarse and tired. “I saw you, both of you. In the dark, and the stars.”_

_“Tell them everything,” the holy man prompted. “As you just told me.”_

_There were dragging minutes of silence until Mato could collect himself well enough to speak in more than a shaking quite voice. “Villages,” he finally said, “made of stone, as tall as mountains, straight into the sky. Smooth rocks for paths, and there were thousands, all over, like the spider's web. And I was there, with you, by your sides, across endless oceans— we crossed them with wings, in the air. I went with you, and so much time passed._ _A_ _nd…” He faltered, shaking his head, tried again, and only looked at them helplessly._

_Cole took his hand. “There aren't words for what you saw, are there?”_

_“Nothing.”_

_“_ _And won't be, maybe not for a long time,” she added gently. “Mato… we'll leave this place in three day's time. If you want, we will take you with us.” He looked up, clearly shocked, but she only shook her head. “We have friends; they can teach you to understand what you saw. What more you might see, things that could come to be someday. Some of them are like you, they're seers, too.”_

_“If you'd like, they can teach you to be like them,” Cole added. “But it's for you to decide. It needs to be your choice.”_

_He looked shaken, terrified, and she hardly blamed him. “Do I need to decide now?”_

_“Of course not. You don't have to decide until the moment before we disappear over that horizon, if that's what you need.”_

_But honestly, three days later, neither were even a bit surprised to leave with a new Guardian by their sides._


	65. Romeo et Juliette

It was old, and in her heart she knew it was simple and stupid, but _Romeo et Juliette_ was absolutely her most favorite guilty pleasure of all time. Love didn't work so elegantly, tragedy wasn't poetic when it was happening in your head, and life was rarely ever even a fraction as graceful… but maybe that was what made it so refreshing. Life was nowhere near as beautiful as the ballet, so of course it only made sense to retreat further into the studio.

Extra studio time was a luxury not to be squandered, and even if she _had_ been tired, going back to that home had not been an appealing prospect. It would be another night of weapons with Don, or homework with Ellie over her shoulder correcting, all of which they were so casual about while Jamie still found herself occasionally having to stave off a panic attack at what her life had become. And while Fox could usually be a bit of normalcy in the chaos, somehow his habit of yelling at the video games he played had gone from a solace to a source of homicidal rage the last week or so.

It made the rare extra dance time all the more precious, and the indulgent dance she did made it that much better. Her little borres and smooth, dragging, gliding steps in perfect time made her feel like she had control again. The pretty smile she gave the mirror helped pull her together— she could get through this, could pretend she wasn't a total mess. And that steady, reliable tempo of the music she'd heard a hundred times worked as the comfort she needed, nearly a meditation, so she could keep her head on her shoulders for another night.

After that, who could say what would happen to that head, but at least she had one more good night for sure.

There was a movement in the mirror; in the back of the studio, the door opened a sliver so Cole could slip in. It was enough of a surprise that she stopped mid-turn to stare.

“Thank heavens,” he chuckled, stepping further in and adjusting the brown paper bag he carried in one arm. “I've already walked in on four different practices. It was getting embarrassing.”

Still a bit stunned by his unexpected appearance, it took a moment before Jamie spoke. “Shoes.” She'd never been exceptionally eloquent when surprised; at his confusion, she nodded at his feet. “Um, your shoes. No street shoes in the studio. Bad for the floors. And the dance shoes.”

He smiled and sat on the floor, setting the bag aside and taking the time to undo the laces and put his shoes neatly against the baseboards.

“What's going on?”

Although there was, without a doubt, a nicer way to greet him, he wasn't fazed as he stood again and offered the bag. “I brought dinner.”

“Y… you—?”

“You said you'd be at the studio,” he continued, looking rather pleased that he'd managed to shock her, “and I noticed it was getting late, so I brought you dinner.” He gave her a minute, and when she didn't say anything, offered the bag, which she took. “It's sushi. I know that's one of your favorites. I figured now, just you and me, Ellie can't call it gross and make us pick something else.”

“It… it sounds great.” Once the surprise wore off, she was genuinely pleased by the gesture. “Um, we're not really supposed to have food in here—”

His face fell a fraction.

“— but if you don't mind being a bit uncomfortable, we can sit down. Share. Have dinner together.” Without waiting for an answer— an affirmative, for sure— she gave him back the bag and did a quick ballet run— a hazard of still wearing her shoes— to the back corner, where she moved a shoe cubby to make a cubicle to hide them from anyone walking in the door, and slid down to the floor where she waved him over. “Not that there's really anyone checking or caring this late at night,” she admitted, “but if there is, I don't want my studio-booking privileges revoked.”

“I'd hate to be the cause of that.” Already he was unpacking the bag, handing her a box and chopsticks. “Those are shrimp rolls, here's the salmon, and a few fancier rolls to top it off.”

“Salmon, please; that's my favorite.”

“I'll remember that for next time.” In exchange, he took back the shrimp and sat down, setting a container of soy sauce between them. “I also got hot mustard, if you'd like.”

“No wasabi?”

“Afraid not; I'm actually a bit scared of it, to be honest.”

She laughed and took a swig from her water bottle. “And _I'll_ remember _that.”_

They ate in silence for a bit, Jamie half-gorging herself as she realized just how long it had been since lunch.

“Slow down a bit; I'm getting sick just looking at you.”

She shook her head. “No way. I'm half starved. I just realized how hard I've been dancing my ass off; gotta make up for that. Marco used to make me take a break every hour and a half for food— set a damn alarm and everything. Said I'd dance myself into emaciation if someone didn't stop me.”

“That sounds eerily accurate.” He grinned around a shrimp roll. “What were you dancing?” It was actually a bit cute how he talked with his mouth full at that moment. Dumb-cute, she told herself; cute in a stupid, flaky way.

She handed him a napkin from the bag before she answered. “ _Romeo et Juliette_.” But the admission made her blush. “I was just practicing. It's old. Gotta keep on form and stuff. Totally indulgent. Probably should've been working on more important things.”

“Are you _flustered_?”

“What? Pfft. No.”

“I thought that was my thing.”

“It is. I'm not. Fuck off.”

“Oh my god, you are!”

“I'm not!”

“Why?”

“I'm _not_!”

“Even if I didn't know you, anyone would by how red your face is right now!”

“It is _not_!”

“Redder than that salmon, I swear.”

“Liar!”

“Nope.” He was still smiling, through. “C'mon, you can tell me. I won't make fun of you for it. Were you and Marcus Juliette and Romeo?”

“Marco.”

“Marco.”

“No, we weren't.” Ripping apart a piece of sushi suddenly became a great deal more interesting than meeting Cole's eyes. “He thought it was childish. Didn't get how anyone could like it. And I… _loved it_. Still do. I love Juliette. I would give anything to dance her. And I think it's all so fucking romantic, with the eyes meeting across the room, and the secret marriage, but it wasn't meant to be, and all they want to do is be in love, but the universe shits all over them. It's so beautiful and sad and romantic— what?”

“What?” Cole tried to look innocent. “I didn't say anything.”

“That face! You made that face!” The blood rushed back to her cheeks as she tried not to look hurt. “You think I'm stupid now!”

“Jamie!” Holding back a laugh, he slide next to her and gracefully took the elbow to the ribs she gave him. “I didn't mean it like that. I'm just… Jamie, you're a closeted hopeless romantic, aren't you?” Another elbow to the ribs was all the answer he needed. “That's...”

“Pathetic?”

“Excellent.”

“You're so full of shit.”

“I mean it! I mean, in the state of the world, it takes a lot to be a romantic.”

“It's so stupid.”

“C'mon.”

“Fairy tales don't actually happen, you know.”

“Believe me, I know.”

She paused. “But… I mean… _Maybe_ I always… kinda wanted roses and candles.. and long walks on the beach… and passionate speeches and going dancing to a little place in the middle of a big city and clinging to each other until it's dawn….”

He laughed, and this time she smiled with him. “That's the goal.”

“Slutting around has always just been easier and more immediately gratifying. I have fun; it's not bad. But… someday.” She bit a roll in half. “Someone.”

“You use that word so casually.”

“Someday?”

“Slut.” He shook his head. “I don't like hearing you think so little of yourself.”

Chuckling, she tried to keep the other half of her sushi together as she dipped it in soy sauce. “I say it 'cause I think a lot of myself.” She brushed the hair back from her face to look up at him. “People are gonna say it about me anyways. I'm comfortable with myself, and I'm happy in my sexuality; if I own it, they can't use it against me.”

He didn't seem completely sure.

“Seriously. I don't care what people think, as long as they recognize that I'm a damn good dancer.”

“So why not 'own' being a hopeless romantic?”

“Ha, please. Do you know how hard it would be to get my rocks off if every guy I met thought I needed wine and roses? Until I'm really ready to commit to that title, I've gotta have some secrets.”

Laughing, he packed up his box of sushi and sighed.

“Are you leaving?”

“Hm?” A little surprised, he gestured at her box. “You stopped eating. I thought you were being too polite to ask em to go so you could get back to dancing.”

“When have you ever known me to be polite? Let along 'too polite'? And to you, above all?” She shrugged. “I don't mind if you stay. I mean, I'm gonna be another hour or so, but if you want to hang out… I could grab a ride with you, maybe? I took the bus in this morning, I don't know if I wanna take it back this late at night.”

He stayed in the corner smiling as she stood up and went to the barre, _totally not embarrassed_ by the requested. “That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me outside of the house,” he teased; before she could say anything snappy, he was settling back and opening his food again. “I'll stay. You an even pretend I'm not here if you want; I won't say a word.”

“You can talk.” A little surprised and off her game again, she fumbled with the remote until she got her music going. “What'd you wanna see?”

“Me? Don't you have something to work on?”

“I like to do a lot of things when I have too much studio time. Wasting time just 'cause I over-booked seems stupid.”

“A woman after my own heart.” There was a look that suggested he wanted to mention something she'd been in the long gone past, but to his credit he said nothing more about it and instead seemed to consider the music. “Do you have anything by Delibes?”

“ _Coppelia_ , obviously. And _Sylvia._ ”

“I've never heard of that one.”

“It's pretty weak, but the music's good. D'you wanna see it?”

He'd never looked so pleased. “I'd be delighted, Jamie.”


	66. Settling

_The village they had settled into was small compared to the places they'd preferred for so long; 14 houses in total, a good ways walk from the nearest town, a cluster by the edge of the sea. Wind whistled and blew cold, whipping up sand and salt that stung just so. It was nearly sunset now, but the sky was still the same dreary grey it had been all day, if perhaps only a shade darker, as she stepped out of their new home with a smile. Just on the hillside was their new flock of sheep, a handful they would use for wool, their new wares, their survival now, and the hopelessly bored shepherd who lay prone on his back in the middle of them all._

_Not that she could blame him, the whirlwind of their lives suddenly slowing to a near halt in almost no time. Still— unable to resist a little fun, she grinned, tucked her shawl into her apron, and cupped her hands to bellow, “They're_ gone! _All of my_ sheep, _they're_ gone!”

Immediately _he jumped up, kicking as he tried to get footing on the slippery grass, not totally aware of what was happening until he fell face-first into the side of an especially fluffy ewe. By the time he'd composed himself well enough to look at her, she was sitting on the ground, tears of laughter streaming down her face as she laughed so hard she made no sound._

_“Very funny.” On his feet again, brushing away grass and mud— oh, she hoped it was mud— he sighed. “I love thinking I've lost our entire livelihood in the course of a single nap.”_

_“Aww, poor man!” She could only stand by leaning on the doorway; from the corner of her eyes, she saw the curious faces of the few Guardians still with them checking to make sure all was okay. “You know I would have been waking you up with far more violence if you'd actually lost my sheep.”_

_He was a beautiful pouter as he shuffled over and hugged her, tucking his head against her neck and sighing mournfully. “Let's go back to a real civilization. Think of it: real food, and people everywhere always doing something exciting and wonderful—”_

_“—Like murdering vast numbers of people in our names? Or rather, in_ your _name, murdering the people who stand in_ our _names?” He huffed, and she drew back to look at him with a smirk. “We don't need them to try and kill us again.”_

_“Aren't we such awful blasphemers?”_

_“The absolute worst,” she agreed, wrapping an arm at his waist and ushering him into their little home. “They won't come here, not for a long time. Give them time to forget us, a chance for us to learn to live as_ people _for once. We'll still use the messengers, we'll still hear from my sisters, and until the right time, there's really nothing else we can do. Until they need us again, it's for the best.”_

_It broke her a little bit to see the sad way he slumped into a chair, as he did every time she mentioned his wonderful little spirits murdering one another for what they thought was his will. “They're not all bad.”_

_“No, they're not.” Fish was cooking over a hearth, and for a moment she tended to it. “But we've gotten too big; it's time to step away. Let them live without us, learn to be on their own. They'll be okay. All of this Christian madness will pass; someday they'll learn that killing does nothing and they'll end their pointless crusade.” Like the good little housewife she was learning to pretend to be, she placed the food in front of him and kissed the top of his head. “We'll be human. They'll forget we were ever here. Sure, they'll still have their stories, but that's all we'll ever be, and they'll learn to live on their own.”_

_His eyes were so sad that she could do nothing but kiss him once more. “And until then, it's sheep and fields and…_ this _.”_

_“I think I like this, thank you very much.”_

_He smiled gently and squeezed her hand as she went past. “I think I do a little bit, too.”_


	67. Claymore

Somehow, someway, as had suddenly become pretty typical of Saturday mornings, Don held a bag of frozen green beans to his black eye while Jamie nursed a split lip with an ice cube and tried to sip her coffee at the same time. It was a feat that couldn't be accomplished, but at least attempting it provided a distraction from fixating on the fact they'd been throwing punches at each other since before the sun had risen, and that for some reason her life had taken such a drastic and ridiculous turn so that this was now considered a normal and understandable way to start the weekend.

“This is probably the last thing you want to hear,” Don sighed, muffled by the donut he was eating, awkwardly picking it apart while trying to use his shoulder to hold the improvised ice pack to his eye, “but your form was still off; you need to bring your hand back faster. That's how I caught you and trapped you.”

Coffee hit the bloody cut in he lip and made her hiss. “Oh, fuck off,” she grumbled in return.

“I expected nothing less.”

“Hey, I got your jaw pretty good with my elbow when you had me 'trapped'.”

“No, no air quotes, I _did_ trap you, and everything still tastes like pennies, thanks, but if you'd done it 100% right, I could have two black eyes right now.”

And while the prospect admittedly would have been _lovely_ , Jamie only scowled and leaned her head back, rubbing her tired eyes. “And I thought weapons sucked. Why can't we just go back to that? I thought you decided I was getting a Claymore?”

“What happens if you don't have your Claymore?”

“Personally, I was hoping a soldier as old and seasoned as yourself wouldn't send me into a sword fight without a freaking sword. Or have I been making great assumptions of your intelligence?”

Laughing and scoffing and groaning seemingly all at once, he leaned back just as she had. “Disarming happens, you know.”

“So if I lose my Claymore, you fully expect me to go up against a lady who is certifiably insane and wielding a broadsword with my bare hands.”

“Look, I know what I'm doing.”

“I'm never totally convinced that's true.”

“Don't you know you're supposed to respect your elders?”

“I believe that comes after some commandments about respecting the gods, bitch.”

They looked at each other and laughed, followed by winces and groans as their bruises ached.

“Why're we just sitting here?” she grumbled. “Fox is right in there.”

“Because we have to get in more practice. And you might as well learn what it's like to fight when everything hurts like hell, 'cause it will.”

“I'd say that makes sense, but you can't even see out of one eye; how the hell do you expect to fight me right now?”

“Centuries of skill and enviable determination.” Despite that insistence, she watched as he struggled to get out of the chair, making horrible sounds of pain that could have been taken for something much more lewd in a different context.

“How's that going for you?”

“Like you're doing any better.”

A single attempt at standing proved him right and left her slumped over the edge of the chair. “For the love of god, no more.”

“It's _because_ he loves y—” he mumbled the pronoun for a minute as she shot him a look “—that we're doing this.”

“Oh, don't even.” Her back, neck, and shoulders all cracked when she stood and grudgingly shuffled from the porch to the yard, struggling with the steps and whining the entire way. And just as before, Don matched her struggle the entire way until they were both huffing and puffing, standing facing each other in weak stances, hardly able to lift their arms. “Do we really, really have to?”

“I gave Cole my word,” he groaned, dropping his guard to gingerly check his eye— now completely swollen shut. “And I am nothing if not a man of my word. I'm going to teach you how to fight if it kills me.”

“Oh, for fuck's sake.” Finally accepting her wit's end, she delivered one swift snapping punch and broke his nose, turning and striding back into the house as well as she could before there was any blood to see. Fox, Cole, and Ellie all looked up in the living room as she slumped by.

“I broke Don's face,” she hissed. Fox ran out as quickly as he could. “I'm going back to bed.”


	68. Athens

_They had traveled to Athens to meet the other goddesses, always eager to explore the newest metropolises their humans had created. It was always lavish, always_ _extravagant_ _, as the people recognized them as the gods they worshiped and treated them as adoringly as they did their idols in the temples._ _This time they walked in a procession, flanked by their Guardians,_ _weaving their way through the streets._ _The four sisters rarely traveled together anymore; it was becoming too hard to hide what they were when they were together, in a world becoming increasingly hostile towards the gods they didn't think of as their own._

_But these people were still pleased to see them, still prayed to them and worshiped them and built temples to honor them,_ _so_ _the least they could do was answer them. Her linen chiton brushed_ _up_ _the dust as she walked hand-in-hand with him, squinting in the sunlight_ _; he wore armor, though there was no need, only to show that he was the Warrior, the Defender, the Father they all thought him to be._ _They walked the cobbled roads as he pointed at the buildings, marveling at this beautiful innovation or that incredible piece of architecture,_ _as fascinated as he ever was by their little humans._

_But they were startled to a stop as a shout_ _came from the front of their procession; she whipped her head around to see_ _her sister, crouched in the street, holding a woman in her arms— an unconscious, bloodied, nearly naked woman. “A healer!”_ _Lali_ _was yelling over her shoulder. “Bring me a healer, right now!”_

_Almas_ _didn't hesitate, shoving back through their crowd to find one as a murmur ran through them with the same demand. Cole took her hand and pulled her to Lali's side, both falling to their knees; he was already reaching for the woman, resting a hand on her forehead to take away her pain. “What happened?”_

_Lali's head snapped up, furious eyes glaring at a pair of young men who stood at the front of the crowd of worshipers. “_ _It was them_ _! These_ _sacrilegious_ _bastards threw her at my feet!”_

_In a second, C_ _á_ _el and Milo_ _š had the boys on their knees, their hands up in surrender and blades at the back of their necks. With her husband tending to the wounded woman, and her sister's arms wrapped tight around her, she rose and stood before the now trembling boys— not even men yet._

_“What have you done?” she hissed._

_Only one of them dared to look up and meet her gaze, and even that seemed to take all of his strength. “Sh-sh-she's a sacrifice,” he stuttered. “For our_ _G_ _od-d-dess.”_

_“_ _You've beat a woman half to death and thrown her at the feet of your Goddess. That's no sacrifice, that's barbaric and sanctimonious. You're hardly priests, what makes you think you have any idea what a sacrifice to the Gods should be?”_

_“_ _She's a whore!” the other snapped, foolishly brave enough to look up angrily— at least until he met her gaze. “A common whore, not even a brothel girl! Damned, and no more—!”_

_“Damned?!” She jumped as the voice, sharp as a slap, startled her; Lali had pushed the girl into Cole's arms as the healer arrived, and charged the boys, grabbing her own blade and holding it under one's chin. “Innocent, I say. A girl far more_ _righteous_ _than you, I dare wager. All she wanted was to survive, and for that, you think I would damn her? For that, you took the Goddess' work into your own hands? And you call your_ _cruelty_ _piousness, call her a sacrifice, and throw her at my feet like_ garbage _?”_ _The blade nicked his chin, but she did nothing more than stand. “I say you are the damned.”_

_Miloš cleared his throat. “What would you have us do with them?”_

_Both boys shut their eyes; the quieter of the two bowed his head, prepared to accept his certain fate._

_“Set them free.”_

_All eyes fell on Lali, none more stunned than her sister's. “_ _Free?”_

_“In a way. Send them to the temples; they'll be the slaves to the priests there, until they learn their respect for the Goddess_ _es_ _.” There was a glimmer in her eyes. “It's a lesson that may take several lifetimes, but I'm sure they'll be resolute in their studies.” She paused only a second longer to spit at them, the last glance before the were hauled off and she returned to the woman's side._

_From that day_ _on, the whore was no longer_ _just a_ _whore, but Serafine, the best loved companion of this goddess. It was that day the goddess of_ _vengeance_ _became the goddess of forgiveness. The day the goddess of the damned became the goddess of the saved._


	69. Knowing

'Shaken' was a word that Jamie didn't use lightly anymore; after what she'd gone through, she couldn't use it to describe a bad fall, a moment of driving where she hadn't been paying attention, an encounter with someone uncomfortable— it took a lot to shake her now. It had to be something truly unsettling that hit at the deepest levels if it was going to shake someone who had, in so short a time, been through and seen so much. And yet, shaken was exactly what she was as she pulled into the driveway, turned off her old clunker, and fumbled with the door handle a few times before managing to open it properly. It was the same making her way up the stairs, struggling with the doorknob, and trying to shrug away her coat and boots.

“Hello?” Ellie called from the next room, looking surprised when Jamie walked in. “I didn't think you'd be back 'til later tonight. Don't you have classes until evening?”

Jamie ignored her. “So a funny thing happened today.” Her voice was high and stringy, perfectly betraying her discomfort as she tried to keep her head up and her unsettled stomach in line.

To her credit, Ellie did nothing more than meet her gaze steadily. “Oh?”

“Mm-hmm. See, I had this exam. And almost four seconds after I got it, I started freaking out, because I realized I've never actually studied for said class, and you've been doing whatever voodoo you do on the homework so I can spend all of my time training with Don, and I didn't actually know any fucking thing I was about to be tested on. And then I was freaking out again, because there was no possible way for you to be magic-ing your witchery from somewhere else to fix this shit.”

“I hope for your sake it wasn't an English exam.”

“And then, I looked down at this paper, totally ready to absolutely lose my freaking mind, and as soon as I read the first question, you know what happened?”

“I'm riveted.”

“I knew every single answer on that test.”

There wasn't a single sign of surprise or shock— or any emotion, really— on her face. “Oh?”

“What did you to do me, Ellie?”

“I haven't done anything!”

“Let's just _pretend_ for a minute that I don't believe you.”

“I really haven't! Really! That was all you! All your knowledge and memories— you do know the meaning of 'omnipotent', don't you?”

It felt like she was short-circuiting for a few seconds, the way her mouth moved dumbly and her head shook like a stuck gear. “Are you trying to kill me with irony?”

“You _are_ , or at least are working your way back to, all knowing. A college exam is _nothing_ for a goddess.”

Another short-circuit, but it lasted even longer. “Ellie, what the _hell_ are you talking about?!”

With a sigh, Ellie pulled her down to sit next to her on the couch as if she were talking to a child. “Your memories are coming back. Sapphire's knowledge is becoming _your_ knowledge; she's getting in your head. You're becoming what you once were. She knew _everything_ in heaven and earth and everything in between; you're going to know that, and some things you already do. You have nothing to worry about.”

“It doesn't feel like nothing.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she fell back into the couch, taking a deep breath to fend off a building scream. “She's in my head.”

“She's _you_. You're in your head.”

“Shut up.” She shook as she let out a breath and stared at the ceiling as she sucked in another long, slow one. “I used to be her. She's me. She's in my head. Everything she was, I am. I'm going to be. I'm becoming… I'm _becoming_ , and there's nothing I can do to stop it. So someday, I'm going to be her. She's going to be me.” Well aware of how crazy her rantings sounded, she looked at Ellie for confirmation.

“That's correct.”

“Sapphire and Jamie. Both. At once.” The heavy sigh seemed to make her smaller.

“Yes.”

The impossible idea, the stress of the day, and the ridiculous of life caught up in one second and Jamie had tears in her eyes when she looked at her friend again. “So what's going to happen to _me_?”

For the first time ever, Ellie looked shocked at the question she'd been asked; the perpetually level-headed witch did a double-take over her shoulder to stare at her. She had nothing to say, and seemed utterly startled by that fact. In fact, they stared at each other in utter silence for several long, long minutes, neither even moving.

“What's going to happen to me?” Jamie asked again.

Eyes wide, Ellie nodded slowly. “I… don't know,” she admitted.

“You don't know.”

“Not at all.” She draped her arm around Jamie, slowly, as if she were approaching a scared animal. “None… Anytime your sisters have been reborn, they've been dead before they really became… themselves. So… we don't know. You might be you, with all of Sapphire's memories in tact; you might… might become Sapphire, completely, again; you might be both at once. I just don't know what to tell you.”

“I don't like that answer.”

“I don't blame you.”

She stared at her hands. “What do you _think_ will happen?”

“I…? Honestly, I think… I think it's going to be you, Jamie, but you're going to find yourself becoming more and more like Sapphire was. Memories and experiences make us who we are; it'd be impossible to have all her thoughts and her whole past in your head as your own without it affecting you.” In the most tender way Jamie had ever seen from the witch, she was pulled into a light, comforting, affectionate hug, that would have been completely weird if it hadn't been something she so desperately needed. “I don't, for a second, think you're going to lose control of yourself, or lose yourself in anyway. You'll become _more,_ just like anyone does. You don't go through life totally the same from one day to the next; no one can stay the same, not with time always moving and things always changing. It just happens that you have a lot more that'll influence you. You have much more more to become than a regular person is all. But you don't lose your past just because you make it to the future.” Jamie could feel the way her face screwed up. “I hate language. There isn't enough of it to explain things the way they're meant to be explained.”

Against all odds, it did make her feel better. “I still don't like it,” she mumbled, slowly getting up and going to the kitchen. “I don't like feeling like I'm losing control of my head.”

“Who does?” And with a single scoff, everything went right back to normal. “Don't fill up on snacks; we're ordering Italian in like two hours.”

Promptly, with a crunch from an enormous bag of chocolate chip cookies, Jamie ignored her.


	70. The Library

_Centuries had passed, but the people proved her right, just as she'd always known they would._

_They invaded Alexandria, or so the messengers told them. The day the library burned, he wept as if he'd lost his own child and all she could do for comfort was hold him, and pretend there were no tears in her eyes, too._


	71. His Dreams

There was a night where Cole went to his bed to find Jamie already there, only she wasn't asleep; she sat, cross-legged, looking at her hands and chewing on her lip. He said nothing, as was their routine, but didn't even seem startled when she finally spoke.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He smirked as he pulled his shirt over his head. “I'm sure even saying 'no' wouldn't be enough to stop you.”

“What do you dream about?”

“The same things as everyone, I suppose.” He gave her a little laugh and finished taking off his jeans and tossing them— half-folded, like a good neat freak— into the hamper.

“No. I mean, those nights that wake you up. When it wakes me up, and you can't even let go of me. And all you do is stare at me like you've seen a ghost. I mean those nights; tell me what you dream about on nights like that.”

For a few minutes, the only sound was their slow, soft breathing and the shuffle of Cole's body as he dug through his drawers for sweatpants and pulled them on. It was only after he'd sat on the edge of the bed, ran a hand through his hair, and took a deep breath that he answered.

“Many nights, it's you,” he said quietly. “But you expected that, didn't you? And many nights, it's not.” He looked at her and ended up smiling a little. “That you weren't expecting, I see.” He pulled the covers back and slid into the bed. “I admit, more often than not, it's dreams of you that wake me. I see our lives, but overwhelmingly I see your death. But for every time I see your face, I see, say, your sisters, any of their many deaths. The friends that followed me that I've lost. The ones whom I loved who chose to live their simple, brief, beautiful lives.” He rolled over to face her. “And when you've lived as long as I have, there are a lot of those faces.”

Jamie watched him as he kneaded the pillow. She tossed aside her hoodie and slid beside him; her head automatically went to rest on his chest, and his arms wrapped tight around her and pulled her close.

“I won't lie: I used to wake up in tears, or screaming— Ellie once had to wake me when I nearly kicked a foot board in two.”

“You haven't done anything like that, though.”

“Not since you returned, no.” He ran a hand through her hair and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “The memories are bad. But you've come back. No matter how bad it's been, and how bad it seems, or how daunting the future looks, you came back to me, and I know that all of the worst is over. All of the waiting, all of the fear, and my love came back.” He huffed a short laugh. “It's reassuring, sometimes, to know the universe still works the way it was intended; good things still happen in return, for every bad thing that's happened to us.”

Reaching with a sigh, he flicked off the light; in the darkness, they laid together for a few silent moments until she nuzzled against him, took a gentle breath, and threaded her fingers with his. “Good night, Cole.”

“Good night, Jamie.”


	72. Nymph

_Underwater, giggles turned into bubbles and surprised shrieks were nearly silent as she slowly spun through the mud and greens that covered the floor of the lake. The fish nudged her back and tickled her curiously, startled away by her movements and confused by the_ _wispy_ _cloud of hair that trailed along behind her. Peace was deafening, comfort was all-consuming, and_ _loneliness_ _was a strange and unfamiliar yet welcome ache in her chest._

_But not for long; she was never lonely for long._

_A shadow cross the sky far above her, rippled in the flow of the water as she looked up, smiling and laughing so that another stream of bubbles rushed to the surface. Lazily— that was the best word for the slow, easy way she pushed off the lake bed and kicked her feet— she rose through the water, fingers outstretched to brush against the life that flourished around her as she swam by._

_The sun was warm on her face as she broke the surface, beaming, the water rushing down her face until she thought to wipe it away. Patiently Cole waited on the bank, watching her muscles flex gracefully until she'd reached him, clinging to the edge of the land and resting her toes against the rough rocks under the water. “Hello,” she greeted breathlessly._

_“Hello.” Crouching was a bit of a struggled with britches, but still he smiled as he sank to her level. “Having fun?”_

_Nodding shook a few drops of water onto him. “It's beautiful down there.”_

_“I should think so. You've been down there for the better part of two hours.”_

_She rose just far enough from the water to teal a kiss. “Being_ _down_ _there, in my Element— it's like Before. You know I wouldn't trade this world for anything, but...”_

_“It's like home.”_

_“Yes and no.” With a heavy sigh, she laid her head on crossed arms, breathing in the sweet smell of the grass that tickled her nose. “I don't know. Human's words are so stupid sometimes. There aren't enough of them.”_

_“They can't have words for experiences they can't have.”_

_No matter that it was true, it was still frustrating._

_“But you are talking to one of the few people in the universe who understands without an explanation.”_

_For which she was unspeakably pleased. With the smile of a child who thrived on mischief, she reached for him again, kissing the hand that took hers and grabbing his shirt to bring his lips closer, making him laugh and run a hand through her water-heavy hair—_

_He stumbled, off balance already from crouching, made worse as she held him tight, pulled him down, and pushed away from the land until he crashed hard into the lake, swiftly swallowed by the water as it logged his clothes and pull him down. His giddy wife followed closely, swimming down easily beside him, taking too much enjoyment in disorienting him until his back finally met the lake bed, sending up a cloud of dirt around him. Softly, her toes dug into the mud as she watched him right himself, out of his element and more than a little unsteady._

_He may have been annoyed, but nothing he would say would be heard through the water anyways. Instead, he gave her a disapproving look, tinged with amusement, a look that was easily wiped away with a kiss. But still he gestured to the water's surface, holding out his hand— that never ceased to amuse her, that he of all people was only just able to swim. One eye roll later, she took the offered hand and propelled to the surface once again, dragging him along as he attempted to weakly kick; even if his heavy clothes and boots hadn't been pulling him back, though, it wouldn't have been any help, but she probably wouldn't tell him that. Ungracefully, he sputtered as he broke the surface, splashing until he found a branch to hang onto. “And what,” he sighed, “was that for?”_

_Only her eyes peeked out from under the water, hair fanned out around her, watching._

_“You'll cause quite a stir if you keep that up—” He cut himself off, looking back into the forest; she heard it, too, and emerged further to try and hear it a bit more clearly._

_It was a group of boys, shouting as they ran closer to the lake, leading a group of adults to the shore; she swam into Cole's open arm, and together they tucked themselves back under a curtain of moss._

_“It's true, I swear!”_

_“We all saw it!”_

_“You're all out of your minds,” a woman's voice said, visible just through the greenery as she caught up with the teens, a mother perhaps, at the water's edge._

_“But we saw it!” One of the boys pulled her back. “We were just fishing, and she came up, right out of the water, naked as a babe—”_

_“— and she kissed him, and he fell for it!” another cut in. “Seduced him with just one look! And once she had him, she pulled him into the lake and drowned him!”_

_“Ate him!” yet another suggested. “Never came up!”_

_“Nonsense.” The woman rolled her eyes and went back to the water's edge. “Telling stories, scaring the children, that's all you're doing.”_

_The lovers exchanged a look; his horrified, hers delighted. “Wipe that smile off your face,” he hissed._

_She held back a laugh. “Absolutely not!”_

_“They'll think the boys are mad!”_

_“No! They'll think they're playing games, as boys do, and given time it'll all be forgotten!”_

_“You say that so much, and they never do!”_

_“Your own fault for not checking if anyone was around.”_

_“Cole!”_

_The shout was all it took for them to stop bickering; in horror, they watched as Lali emerged across the pond, bow in hand, Serafine several feet behind, looking around impatiently until she came upon the group. “Oh. My apologies.” She smiled warmly. “We hadn't realized there was a town nearby. Has anyone see a man around here, about yay-tall, dark haired—?”_

_“He's dead!” The boys were shouting and the people were quick to follow, this sudden confirmation that the man had, in fact, existed, seemingly enough to change their minds that this was more than a joke. All Lali could do was stare in confusion as they mobbed her. “She killed him! She ate him!”_

_A woman grabbed her shoulder. “Who was he?”_

_“Cole?” Her eyes narrowed. “My brother by law. We're going hunting—”_

_“Hunting?” she whispered, her words bubbling in the water, giving him a sour look._

_He huffed and readjusted how he held her. “I was coming to tell you!” he said in equally hushed tones._

_“You need to go comfort your sister, then,” another woman said, some combination of amazed and terrified. “Our boys say they watched him die. That a— a woman, a creature, almost divine, it must have been, rose from the water and lured him with a kiss, only to take his life.”_

_“Kill him?” Lali looked as if she were bordering on a conniption, eye ready to twitch, as she tried to figure out what was going on,_ _looking at a shocked Serafine with rage and confusion_ _; unable to stay hushed anymore,_ _she let out a loud laugh before Cole could clamp a hand over her mouth._

_But everyone had heard; the villagers looked around in horror, but Lali's eyes somehow found exactly where the sound had come from and stared, glared really, at the little bit of her sister she could see through the moss curtain. “That— that— she—_ damn _!” She sighed and shook her head, trying to put on a mournful face. “Thank you, you're right, I must go tell my_ _sister._ _Keep your people far from this lake, lest they suffer the same fate as my good brother.” She left on that,_ _grabbing Serafine's hand,_ _likely trying not to laugh if she knew her sister, leaving the villagers to slowly find their ways home, while husband and wife stayed hidden, laughing softly with one another._

_She couldn't think of anything else to say. “Oops.”_


	73. Nova

“Slow, slow,” Don reminded her again as he led just a few movements ahead with his staff. “Walk before you run. You can't—”

“If you can't shut up, I'm shoving this thing so far up your ass, it'll be coming out your mouth.” She shot him a look and swung the wooden practice blade. “Which would at least be better than whatever fortune cookie nonsense you're spewing now.”

He rolled his eyes. “I defer to my esteemed and aggressive colleague.”

“Bitch, I'm your freaking god.”

“Technically, I've sworn my life to Cole, so _he's_ my god, and you're just a fun little cohort that comes with the job.”

“You always insult the anger issues holding a weapon, have you ever noticed?” She took a light swing that he easily blocked. “Just be glad Cole wants to keep you around or I would've taken your head off by our second lesson.”

With a dramatic sigh, he put his hand on his heart. “You slay me, my lady.”

“That's the idea, peasant.” Something in her shoulder popped, making her groan. “You're freaking breaking me, dammit!”

“You just need to stretch more.”

“Oh, don't _even_.” Stabbing the sword into the ground, she cracked her neck and sighed. “I thought we were trying to keep me in one piece, wasn't that a big important thing?”

“We are. That's why we keep Fox around.” He followed her lead, stabbing the ground, and went for a cup of tea he'd left sitting on the porch. “That way I can beat you up as much as I want, and you still end up good as new. It's just about all he's good for, really.”

Jamie snorted as she sunk to the hardwood floor of the porch and began another round of stretching. “You're awful.”

“Awful, or honest?”

“Awful, I promise.”

He shrugged and grinned. “I tease him, but I love the guy. Hell, without him, I'd be dead a few dozen times over.”

“I'm assuming I don't want the details.”

“Probably not.” Relaxing, at least as much as he was capable of, he sat beside her, leaning back with a sigh and taking in the bright morning sky. “But still, let's just say there's literally no one else in the world who can do what he does. And even if they could, they couldn't do it as well. He's brought people back from the brink of death more times than I can count, and he'll spend his entire life beating himself up over the ones he didn't.”

She gave him a bit of a sad smile. “I guess there's been a lot of them, huh?”

“More than there should be.”

“And that doesn't ever go away? Even after all this time?”

“That's the mark of a good doctor, you know; even after all this time. And believe me,” he added grimly, “it's something he _does_ think about. All the time. Every last one of them.”

He never let on, but somehow she wasn't surprised to hear it. Fox was too good _not_ to remember every life he'd lost.

“Cole's forgiven him every time— not that he did anything that needed forgiveness— but it's still not enough for him. He doesn't let it go, no matter how many times you tell him that it's okay, that you know he did everything he could. Hell, even I...” But he trailed off, thinking better of it; instead, he set aside his tea and picked up another weapon from the porch, some bizarre looking sword, and began a slow demonstration down on the grass.

If she was honest, it was clear that Don didn't want to talk. But Jamie ignored that and looked up from where she sat in a split. “Why'd you have to forgive him? What'd he do?”

Don shook his head. “He didn't do anything— well, he did, actually, he did everything he could, I know that, and I don't blame him, but there's always that part of him that thinks...”

“But _why_?”

The smile he gave her was completely humorless. “You ask a lot of questions, has anyone ever told you that?”

“What, like you wouldn't have a million questions every second of every day if you were in my position?”

That, at least, he couldn't argue. Slowly, he let out a long sigh and hoisted the sword over his shoulder, looking her up and down before nodding, more to himself than her. “Nova,” he said softly.

That simple word made her stomach drop. “Nova. Like the supernovas, right? The stars dying— what about them?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Nova is a Hopi name; it means 'Chasing Butterflies'. She was… a long time ago, she was a… this breathtaking warrior. Became a soldier, I guess; joined my ranks to serve.”

That said it all; Jamie could guess the entire story from there on. She couldn't look him in the eyes, instead stared at the ground, almost hoping he'd notice and decide to leave it at that.

But she had asked, so he would answer. “Not that long ago, really. A few decades. Feels much, much longer to me, though. They still don't mention her, or say her name.” He stopped for a moment. “I'm glad they don't. I don't think I could take it if they did.

“It was an accident— made to look like an accident, at least. It nearly took one of your sisters. Just a normal night, we'd all gone out for dinner together. Headed back down a long, dark stretch of road; it was the highway, then, but it wasn't anything like the highways now. And...” He made the sound of an explosion, miming it, staring blankly the whole time. “Four people in the car. Two died instantly— two more friends, and a burst of flames, and that was all. They never even knew what happened. Nova, though…

“She acted in a split second. I couldn't have done better myself if I tried. She threw herself between your sister and the flames, took the brunt of it. And when the car rolled, she became the cushion for half the force of it. She had burns on 40% of her body, half of her bones were crushed and she still did everything she could to get your sister from that car. By then, all the rest of us had stopped, three more cars of people; Cole grabbed your sister, and Fox was right there— he was the only one left, y'know? All the other healers and doctors were long, long gone, and saving your sister came first, she was what it was all about. So… so I found Nova.” He'd gone white at the memory. “One of her braids had burned off— she was so proud of her braids, they were her sign that she was a warrior— and her face was cut from the glass. She'd torn this great gash in her leg trying to escape the car.”

There was nothing she could say while he cried, great silent ugly tears on a red face that he didn't even bother trying to hide or wipe away.

“It was slow,” he finally continued, jaw clenched so that he could speak over the noticeable lump in her throat. “Too slow, and still too fast. Long enough to suffer, not long enough for Fox to have a chance to even try to save her.” The hollow smile he put on chilled her to the bone. “He saved your sister, though. She lived. Another seven months. I don't blame him,” he said again, sounding a little less convincing. “We serve _you_. I blame _her_ , every second of every hour of every day. She's the reason my Nova died. She's the reason I keep going; I won't stop until she's dead.”

Without even a hint of emotion, he dropped the sword, paced back to the porch, grabbed what looked like a small battle ax with one hand, and marched back across the grass where he gave one mighty swing and embedded the ax halfway into a thick tree trunk.

Jamie could only stare in horror when he returned. Falling onto the step, head in his hands, he murmured something as she slid next to him.

“S-sorry?” Her mouth had gone dry. “I missed that?”

He didn't even look at her. “She doesn't remember.”

“What?”

“Her life, her tribe, us— _me_. She doesn't remember any of it.”

Ellie had said that. She'd said they'd tried before, he had to have known… “You tried anyway, didn't you? Even though...”

“I begged Cole on my knees and… he found her. She was a farmer's daughter in rural India. Even wore her hair in the same braids.” It sounded like it both thrilled and broke him. “We talked, and she didn't recognize me. I tried harder, and nothing. I... went a little bit crazy. In the end, they had to physically haul me out of there, and completely erase her memory of meeting me again.”  
“God, Don.”

“She's married, three kids. A fourth on the way.” The look on his face said, in no uncertain terms, that he would have killed a hundred men for them to be his. “I keep tabs on her. Maybe next time around— maybe then.”

Jamie instinctively knew it would never happen. But still she nodded.

He returned to his tea, and she to her coffee, until the sun was high in the sky and the shade had shifted, neither saying a word. When he did, at last, rise, going for his sword again, he hesitated as she followed. “Jamie?”

“Yeah?”

“I want you to promise me something.”

'Anything' almost came out, but she stopped and took a breath. “If I can, I will.”

That was apparently good enough. “Being Cole's soldier is going to be the death of me.”

There was no use denying the truth.

“When it is, I want you to promise me, no matter what: you'll do everything in your powers to make sure I get to be with her again.”

Maybe it wasn't the best promise to keep. But still she took his hand and squeezed it gently. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He gestured to her sword. “C'mon, do it again. Slow and steady.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I originally posted this months ago (at a really awful time to be undertaking such a thing). I've begun from the beginning again as a means of beta-ing the story. Most of the chapters have been taken down for my own sanity, but the tags remain because eventually I'll be reuploading them. If this actually goes according to plan, I'll have the whole thing up in not too terribly long of a time. So for those beta-ing for me, you're wonderful and I appreciate it more than you know. For those just reading, I mean, I still hope you like it.


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